


Edged in Gold - Completed

by Starry_Emerald173



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Amnesia, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dark!Brock, Eventual Romance, Hydra (Marvel), Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Memory Loss, Original Character(s), Panic Attacks, Rape/Non-con Elements, Reader Insert, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, So much angst, Technically a Dark!Fic, seriously, there will be smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:26:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 30
Words: 54,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25698802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starry_Emerald173/pseuds/Starry_Emerald173
Summary: Super soldiers aren't supposed to fall in love. Especially for the same woman. And they sure aren't supposed to find the closest thing to happily ever after only to have it all ripped away when a mission goes wrong and the love of their lives dies.Five years and a vengeance fueled quest later, Bucky and Steve are *this* close to completing the only mission that matters now.Except...you're not dead.You just don't remember them.Kintsugi is the Japanese art of putting broken pottery pieces back together with gold — built on the idea that in embracing flaws and imperfections, you can create an even stronger, more beautiful piece of art
Relationships: Brock Rumlow/Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Reader, Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 129
Kudos: 322





	1. Bloody Vengeance

**Author's Note:**

> First things first, lovelies - protect yourself, pay attention to the tags cause shit's going dark in this one. I'm not entirely sure how dark...will keep the tags updated with each chapter posting. Happy smut in later chapters and I pinky promise that - after a helluva slow burn - there WILL BE A HAPPY ENDING B/C IT MAY BE DARK BUT I'M A HOE FOR HAPPINESS
> 
> Okay, oh boy! First Dark!Fic and my palms are sweaty...this is SO not what I normally write, but my brain did this and, well, yeah. Sorry.
> 
> Comments and feedback appreciated

"Nat, how we looking?" Steve asked, slamming his shield into the Hydra agent's head with a brutal punch of power that cracked bone.

"A couple more minutes, boys," Came the response from somewhere deep in the bowels of the Hydra base. "This firewall's a bitch, but so am I. Three minutes, max."

There was a shout, then a gun shot, then a gurgling sound as Bucky dispatched his own opponent. Both soldiers stood there for a moment, chests heaving, muscles burning. Between the two of them they'd cleared the entirety of the base.

All in all, not the worst workout Steve had done.

He met Bucky's eyes with a question and Bucky grimaced as he pulled his tac pants away from where the bullet had punched a whole in his thigh.

" 'S already healing." Buck promised. "Gonna have to dig the bullet out on the quinjet."

"Got it!" Nat's triumph filtered through the comms. "Time to get out of here."

"Setting the charges." Steve confirmed as Bucky began to retrace their steps through the facility. "See you at the jet."

The Hydra base made a lovely red-orange glow against the sunset as the plane headed away. Steve felt his chest tighten and knew Bucky felt the same way as they watched the base exploded, then began to burn. Satisfaction, however temporary, thrummed through him as he watched the smoke and flames until they were too far away to see the wreckage.

"Did you get what we needed?" Wilson asked from the cockpit.

Nat held up the flash drive with a cocky grin. "Got it. All the files from their network I could get my greedy hands on."

"Upload it to Stark." Steve commanded. "I want new targets ready to go."

Nat's smile dimmed a little, but she nodded.

Bucky sank into one of the seats and ran his vibranium hand through his hair, either not noticing or not caring that there was blood spattered liberally on him. "Let's get this fucking bullet out."

Steve grabbed the medical kit from the wall and went to work. Bucky hissed as he pulled the compacted slug out, slammed his nonmetal hand against the seat as Steve rinsed the wound and slapped a bandage on it. It'd heal by the time they returned to the compound, but better safe than sorry.

He _needed_ Bucky. Just the thought of losing him too had his heart stuttering in his chest. 

"Steve, I'm fine."

"Neither of us is fine." His throat closed and he had to push to get the words out.

There wasn't anything Bucky could say to that.

Neither of them had been fine in the last five years, two months, three weeks and...Steve counted in his head...three days. Not even the hot burn or pleasure of vengeance could fix what was broken now, no matter how many missions he led or bases they destroyed or Hydra agents they killed. 

What else was there to do, though? Go back to the Tower and constantly be reminded of everything they'd lost?

At least they'd never had the chance to make those reminders at the upstate compound.

"Hey guys?" Nat called, having plugged the drive into one of Stark's portable supercomputers. "I think you should see this." The former assassin moved to join them. "Looks like this isn't the only Hydra base in the region." She pointed to the screen and Steve started to read.

"A prison?" Bucky joined them, clutching at Steve's shoulder as the jet shuddered with Wilson's shift to a holding position. "Didn't know the bastards had it in 'em."

"I was skimming the files," Nat offered. "Looks like a few scientists, political prisoners. Hostages. Might be worth a look, since we're in the area."

"What do we think?" Wilson asked, peering over Nat's shoulder with a sharp whistle. "Do we have enough firepower for something like this?"

"We can get reinforcements on the way," As much as Steve wanted - god, how he wanted - to hit the base, he had to use his brain. Tactics mattered. "That'll give us time for recon. Figure out the best approach."

"Sounds good, Cap." Wilson nodded, before noticing Bucky's leg and scowling. "Jesus, do you have to bleed all over my baby, Winter?"

Bucky retorted with a pithy Russian phrase that had Wilson flipping him the finger as he moved back towards the radio to call in the update.

"Can I look through those files? On the prisoners. Maybe we can leverage some local allies. Muck up some of Hydra's scheming some more." 

Nat nodded and flung the file images into the open air. "Scroll away."

He had to admit as he scanned, expanded, closed and moved on to the next file, Howard's kid made some pretty good stuff. This was so much better than hunching over the tiny laptop. The damn screen gave him the worst fucking headaches.

Not that looking at prisoners and their mug shots was pleasant viewing anyway...

The next file flicked up and he heard Bucky's pained gasp as the blood drained from his own face.

It was impossible.

He was looking at a ghost.

It had to be. Or a dummy file. Hydra was clever like that, mixing in counterintelligence to all their files just in case of situations like this one. That had to be it.

The realization brought a hot wave of acid hate through him. How dare they? How dare they use this face that way?

He would fucking destroy that prison for this.

"Fury's got a Strike team two countries over." Wilson reported. "They can be here in about six hours pending their own op closure. Wanda and Vis are still unreachable in Scotland somewhere. Stark's at Parker's graduation but he can be here if we want the assist." When no reply was forthcoming, he glanced over his shoulder. "Cap?"

"Steve," Nat's voice was soft, like the way you talked to a corned, wounded animal. Why was she talking to him like that? "Steve, listen to me-"

He _felt_ like an animal. He felt like ripping someone into literal pieces. Nat was still talking, he realized, but the sounds were far away, blurred by some kind of curtain between his ears and his brain.

He would annihilate Hydra for making him look at that face again, for ripping off the scab over a festering wound that was killing him by degrees every single day.

"Land the jet." Nat commanded. "Get us on the ground, now." She turned back to him, hands out and open. "Steve, listen to me. We're going to take that place down. Brick by brick if we need to. But we have to wait for help."

She was right. He knew she was right. He focused on that as he sucked in a lungful of air, focused on it as he pushed the air out, slowly, so slowly. Control. He had to maintain control, at least until the plane landed.

The moment the craft touched down under the cover of trees in the thick forrest, he dropped the shield to the deck with a clang and strode off the barely opened enough ramp.

"Let him go," He heard Nat tell Wilson. "Let him walk it off."

He snapped his helmet off. He had to _do_ something with this rage, this untrammeled, unstoppable volcano that threatened to explode out of his chest as his heart pounded in his ears.

With a roar, he snapped and slammed a fist out in a blast that dented the hardwood of the nearest tree trunk.

Once it was uncorked, he couldn't stop, and he gave himself over to the madness with equal parts relief and despair.

Nat was waiting for him when the fog in his head finally cleared. He couldn't read her. He felt exhausted though, like a towel wrung too tight. "The Strike team will meet us there in an hour."

He nodded, mute. He'd be fine by then.

"We're going to make them pay, Rogers." She promised him.

"Damn right." Wilson spoke from the edge of the ramp. "Fuckers went too far."

"Bucky?" Steve's throat felt raw and dry.

"He wouldn't stop staring at it." Nat admitted, falling into step with him as they moved up the ramp. "I may have given him a small sedative. He'll be awake by the time we get there - that metabolism of yours is both handy and frustrating."

"You good to go, Cap?"

Steve stopped by Bucky, strapped into a harness and completely unconscious. His pulse was steady though, and his breath was even.

"Let's go." God's righteous man? No, he thought, nothing about what he was going to do to Hydra was going to be associated with God.

The Devil himself was a different story.


	2. A Crack In The Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes hope is the most dangerous beast...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always lovelies, protect your head and your heart. This is going to get darker as we go for a bit. Implied/References/Straight up on topics of rape & non-con, torture, self-harm.

If he saw your relief, he would stay.

God, you didn’t want him to stay.

The sound of him lacing up his boots filled the cell, and then the mattress squeaked as he leaned back over, gripping your chin and rolling you onto your back. 

You kept your body limp, kept your face as blank as you could make it. Give him nothing, you willed yourself, give him nothing and he'll leave.

The man who looked down at you would easily be described as handsome, in that grizzled, mercenary kind of way. But within that shell lay one of the most monstrous creatures you’d ever seen in your years in this gulag.

He smiled - a genuine smile - and it made your skin want to crawl off and  _ hide _ . “You really do hate me, don’t you?”

There wasn’t anything you could say to that without risking an absolutely brutal beating, and since you hadn’t quite finished healing from the last one, you lay there, silently.

“There’s a spark in your eyes that just...won’t ever go out, no matter what I do to you.” He leaned in closer, closer, brushing morning stubble along your jaw as he murmured into your ear. “It’s why I fell in love with you in the first place, _sweetheart_ .”

The kisses he trailed along your skin made you shiver again and he laughed, a dark sound ripe with teeth as he pushed off the bed and stood. 

“I’ll be back to see you soon,  baby .”

And then he was gone - the door to the cell opened and he strolled out, whistling carelessly. It shut with a clang and you flinched. Everything was always so loud when he finally left, every nerve in your body over-fired and over-sensitive.

It would fade over the day, you'd learned. The first few hours were the worst, but it would fade. By the next day, you'd feel as human as you ever felt in this place.

Speaking of feeling human...

You pushed yourself upright and off the mattress. You needed to shower the smell - the stink - of him off your skin before you started trying to claw him, what he did to you, off.

The water wasn't hot, but it was clean, and while you had no doubt that you'd never feel clean again - not _really_ clean - it helped.

You were toweling your hair dry when the alarms went off.

The sounds were disaster-loud, driving you to your knees as you tried to cover your ears and block a modicum of the sound. God, it _hurt_.

When the sirens stopped, you stayed down, panting, until you were sure it was over. By then your ears had started to catch other sounds - gunshots, screams. Impact. Thuds. Getting louder, clearer, _closer_.

After another round of peppering gunfire, the door to your cell opened and half a dozen tactical officers swept into the space with the kind of efficiency your own body had possessed once upon a time - just _another_ thing you knew, without knowing how you knew it.

You didn’t bother to stand. What was the point?

“Clear!” Came the call, and all but three of the tactical team disappeared back into the hallway.

All three took off their helmets. Two men and a woman, all looking combat sharp and dangerous as hell.

“Y/N?” The taller of the two men was looking at you, drinking the sight of you in as if...as if he k _new_ you. “It’s...you’re really…” He swayed and the stockier dark-haired man beside him swore and stepped in to steady him with an arm that glinted metallic in the dim lighting.

“We have to go.” The woman said, stepping forward and addressing you directly. “We’ll explain later, but right now, we need to leave.”

_ Leave _ .

Your heart was pounding before she even processed the word. The world began to go numb around the edges, even as you pushed to her feet.

_ Leave. _

You didn’t notice anything about your exit route, or details about this team as they shepherded you out. Your entire being had narrowed down to that single, single word that you couldn’t let herself believe until they walked you out of the front door into a freezing cold mountain landscape, hustling to the small stealth planes with practiced efficiency.

You lost consciousness the second they hit the air.


	3. Don't Wake Me If I'm Dreaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers are, predictably, stunned at your resurrection from the grave.
> 
> But living has a price, and you aren't the woman you were when they knew you.
> 
> Now what?

"What the actual fuck?" Banner whispered as Cap carried the unconscious body off the jet and placed it on the medical stretcher that had been waiting. The medical team moved quickly, efficiently, and absolutely did not try to make Cap or Barnes move. "I mean, seriously, _actually_ , what the fuck Nat?"

Natasha was watching the scene, arms crossed over her chest. "I don't know, Bruce. I thought - I thought it had to be a cruel trick. Putting one of our own in their files to fuck with our heads." She shook her own head. "And then we got to the prison and the warden admitted she was _alive_."

"But...how? We watched that building come down on top of her. The site was incinerated." He couldn't believe it. "It has to be...a clone? A trick of some kind? Maybe a Hydra agent wearing some kind of masking tech?"

"We'll figure it out."

"We need to run tests."

Nat jerked her chin at the stretcher. "Good luck getting past those two to do anything."

"I'll talk to Cho."

"I knew you were the smart Science Bro." She ruffled his hair affectionately, but it was forced, the tension palpable. "If it is a...trick...Bruce, they won't survive it."

"Is that what we're calling what they've been doing for the last five years?" Wilson asked, bumping Nat with his shoulder.

"Living for revenge is still living," Nat pointed out. "Goddamn it though." She sighed. "I don't want to hope, but at the same time..."

"Yeah," Wilson nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I know exactly what you mean."

"Where's Stark?" Nat asked.

"Pepper and I made the executive decision not to fill him in until after Parker's graduation party. You know the guilt ate him alive after Vienna." Bruce shuffled, clearly uncomfortable with the call on some level. It didn't feel right to keep Tony out of this, but it wouldn't help Tony either. Not until they knew more about what they were dealing with. "We finally got ahold of Wanda and Vis - they're on tomorrow's flight home."

"They can actually fly, and they still use airplanes." Wilson shook his head as the the medical team - hulked by two implacable super soldiers - began to roll towards the elevators that would take them directly to the medical wing. 

"She didn't recognize us." Nat said. "In the prison. She just...she saw us, but there was...there was nothing on her face. No acknowledgement, nothing. Not until we told her we were leaving, and then it was like she went somewhere else. She passed out the minute the jets lifted off." She watched the elevator doors close with the closest thing to nerves Bruce had ever seen from her.

"We'll figure this out, Nat. We always do."

"What's the news, doc?"

Helen Cho took in the mood of the waiting room before answering.The Captain and Barnes were nothing more than tension-wound frames crammed into the hard plastic of the chairs. Banner was pacing - never a good sign. Wilson was quietly murmuring to Pepper. And the Black Widow was looking at her with that terrible mixture of hope and fear that every doctor either learned to manage or let take them down.

She exhaled as all eyes fixed on her. "She's physically stable, but I'm going to keep her sedated for a few more hours while I wait for confirmation from a colleague." She snapped her hand up to forestall the wave of questions she could physically feel in the room. "I can confirm that this _is_ Y/N. This isn't a clone or a fake or a robot." Now for the hard part. "But...there's a lot that's happened to her over the last few years. The evidence..." She swallowed as Sergeant Barnes' gaze snapped up to meet her own with the focus of a predator. "suggests years of abuse, mistreatment."

"You said she was stable."

Helen nodded. "Yes. Because there is something else we found in the preliminary bloodwork. She's been...altered."

"Inhuman?" Natasha asked. "She underwent terragenesis?"

"No." Helen looked at Steve and Bucky in equal measure. "Somehow, some way, Hydra was able to replicate the effects of Erskine's formula. It's very clear in her bloodwork."

"What," Steve swallowed, wiped his palms on his legs. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that - at some point between Vienna and now - Hydra gave her a version of the super soldier serum. It's the only explanation for her survival, despite the massive amounts of scarring and damage we've been able to see so far." Her hands wanted to tremble - Barnes was still staring at her with those ice cold eyes. No, she realized, this was a version of the Winter Soldier, not Sergeant Barnes. She licked her lips and pressed on. "I want to run more tests to confirm, but at this moment, it appears that she's survived because she has so many of the same properties as you two - accelerated metabolism, healing. Likely heightened senses and reflexes, though we'll have to wait til she wakes up for those tests."

"What about her brain?" Nat jumped in. "At the prison, she clearly didn't know who we were."

"I can't speak to that without more testing, but amnesia is not uncommon in trauma cases of this severity. And given that Hydra had her for at least some of the last five years, I don't feel comfortable making any statements about her state of mind, or her memory. It's clear that she was overwhelmed, and her body simply shut down to protect her when you left the facility. I'm putting in some calls to my peers for more trauma-informed help." She shrugged helplessly. "I wish I had more information for you, but the truth is, we won't know the extent of the dama-"

The low growl that ripped through the room had all eyes moving to Barnes.

"We...we won't...won't know the full extent until she's alert." Now her hands were shaking. "Until then, she'll be staying in the medical ward we had designed for Sergeant Barnes when he first joined the team. If something is wrong, we'll be able to contain her or reach her in moments. And she'll be supervised twenty-four-seven until we've run every test."

"It's her." Barnes growled. "Not a fucking lab rat. You don't run a single test without her consent, you hear me?" He clenched his fists. "Not one fucking test."

Helen nodded. "Absolutely."

"Can we...can we visit her? When she wakes up?"

Exhaustion started to creep in and Helen let out a little sigh. "To be honest, until we know how much she remembers, I'm against visitors. But I will allow small - short - supervised visits starting tomorrow as long as she shows no signs of distress. That means no pushing, no prodding, no prompting." She snapped the words at the two super soldiers and saw the corner of Steve's mouth lift with amusement. "Now, you all look like shit. Get out of here. Visiting hours aren't til ten tomorrow. I'll page you if there's any change at all," She tacked on. "Good or bad."

"Thanks, Doc." Bruce smiled at her, no longer pacing.

Helen forced herself to nod. And then she got the hell out of the waiting room.

"I think you scared her, Barnes." 

Bucky ground his molars together in an effort to keep himself from going after Wilson. Steve scowled at the Falcon in clear reprimand.

"Okay. Anyone actually going to be able to relax tonight?" Nat glanced around. "No? Me either."

"So...now what?" Wilson asked, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I'll make the first food and coffee run."

"I have to get out of here," Bucky shoved himself upright and stalked from the waiting room, breaking into a jog as he headed for the exit. By the time he hit the door, he was running, and then he was outside in the cool night air and taking off across the grass.

He wasn't sure how long he ran, but his lungs were heaving and his thighs were on fire by the time he collapsed outside the incredibly generous barracks that housed the Avengers. He didn't need to look up at the sound of footsteps - he knew it was Steve - and he just lay there as Steve sat down next to him.

"It's her. It's really..." Steve's voice was thick with emotion. "We thought she was dead this whole time. Jesus, Buck, I'm so fucked up over this..."

"Me too, punk." Bucky groaned and pushed himself upright before looking at his best friend. "I'm just...feeling too much right now."

"What are we gonna do?"

Bucky knew he meant about your lack of recognition. God, it had almost killed him to have you look at him and not _see_ him. Almost as cruel as finding out from that sniveling warden that you really were alive. "We'll figure it out. She's alive. That's what matters most right now."

Steve didn't say anything to that - there was nothing to say, really.

They just sat there, waiting, until the sun came up. 


	4. Who We Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're awake and your world isn't what it was before. Which would be fine, but everyone keeps looking at you like they know you...

_One Week Later_

"You good?" The man who'd introduced himself as Sam Wilson asked from the spot he'd chosen to lean, propping up the wall. 

You nodded as you came out of the bathroom - with a door and privacy like a real _place_ \- and back into the bedroom you'd been given after Dr.Cho cleared you yesterday. "Yeah. Yeah. It's just...so much space."

He laughed, but it wasn't a mean sound. "I think that's understandable."

Sam was the only one of the Avengers who didn't look at you the way the rest of them did; like they were looking through you, at someone else. Ergo, he was the one who's company you could most stand.

Everyone else looked at you with too many emotions - too many _thoughts_ \- and none of them were about you, you. Whoever you were before the prison, you had been something to these people first.

But you couldn't remember any of them. They were strangers.

Which, you supposed, they _were_ since Dr. Cho's team had confirmed that your memories stopped about four years ago. They'd wanted to run more tests, try to narrow down what had happened and how, but one look at the MRI machine had made your skin crawl with dread. The idea of being laid out, machine humming around your head...

"Hey, where'd you go?" Wilson pushed off the wall in alarm. "Y/N?"

"I'm fine." You shook off his concern. "But, uh, where's the food from here?"

Sam chuckled. "A woman after my own heart." Both of you knew he didn't mean it, and so you could push back the spike of unease that tried to crawl up your spine as you remembered _his_ words that last morning. "Come on, I'll show you."

Sam talked. 

He talked a lot.

It was helpful actually. Light, meaningless chatter and instructions that were helping you build context for this new world - the Avengers compound - you found yourself a guest in. Something about the normalcy of it all...And if you happened to drift in thought or memory, he was there, bringing you back. Centering you. Grounding you. All without crowding your space or asking you how you felt.

Or if you remembered anything.

So Sam talked as he led you to one of three communal kitchens in this building. He showed you the well-stocked cupboards and fridges and freezers. Showed you how to place a food order via F.R.I.D.A.Y. He talked as you pulled a frozen pizza out of the freezer and showed you how to use the top of the line oven, and then dragged you to the far side of the room where a conversation pit was filled with plush couches and pillows in front of a ginormous tv screen.

"It's huge."

"That's what she said..." Sam laughed. "Yeah, you should see it when there's a series finale on or the playoffs are up. Stark set us up with the best stuff. Let me show you how to get your own Netflix profile set up."

You hadn't met Tony Stark yet. There was something in the way everyone said his name and glanced out of the corner of their eyes at you that made you certain that was intentional. Something painful had happened between old-you and Stark though, that much was obvious.

"So, Nat's gonna drop by tomorrow and check on you." Sam mother-hen-ed half a dozen episodes of some British baking show later. "She'll show you around more of the compound, but watch out for her sense of humor. She's sneaky."

"Why is this so much easier for you?" Your question was a rock dropped in the pond of awkward and you wanted to take the words back as you pulled a pillow against your chest with a groan. "I mean...never...you never make me feel like you expect me to be _her. Before_ me."

For a moment, you weren't sure what Sam was going to say. After a long moment, he shrugged his shoulders in a 'fuck it' gesture. 

"I didn't know you all that well before...well, before. It was an in-passing thing. I think that makes it easier for me to be here than St-some of the others. Don't have all these memories to keep trying not to fall back on around you. And before I was an Avenger, I was a war vet. Helped out where I could at the VA, tried to make the transition back from war a little easier."

"You're telling me I've been at war?"

"Haven't you?" He asked, but didn't wait for an answer. "And you seemed like you could use a friend."

A friend. The word made something in your chest go warm as you leaned back against the couch. "I'd like that. A friend."

Sam smiled and you both settled in for another episode.

"This is getting exhausting," Sam griped as he slouched in the chair of the conference room just outside the medical wing. He straightened as Bucky went to snarl something and cut him off. "Not hanging around with her. That's...that's fine. But this daily debrief shit has got to go."

"Until we can confirm some things about her time in that prison and what Hydra did to her," Helen pointed out "We really do need to keep a close eye on her."

"What's changed, doc?" Sam had never seen Steve look so tired before.

"I asked F.R.I.D.A.Y. to perform a brain scan of Y/N while Wilson was visiting her this evening."

"Not what you think." Sam pointed out as two sets of super soldier eyes narrowed on him. "We had pizza and watched Netflix and she asked me why it was easier to hang out with me than all of you. That's it. She _eats_ like a super soldier though, that's for damn sure."

"Doc?" Barnes prompted, with an eye roll tossed at Sam.

"You aren't going to like it." Helen warned.

"There's a lot about this none of us like." Bruce pointed out. 

"There was...scarring...on parts of her brain. It's very similar to the ones we saw on Sergeant Barnes' initial scans when he joined the Avengers after the triskelion fell. My best guess is that Hydra...well, that they wiped her memories of everything _before_ four years ago. It's...extensive."

"But I remembered." Bucky pointed out, and damn if Sam didn't feel a punch in the gut at the stubborn hope he saw in the guy's eyes.

"The brain is a funny thing," Helen tried to explain. "She may remember, eventually. She might remember parts, or all of it, or none of it. We don't fully understand the mind, or memories. She may start having dreams or flashbacks or hallucinations, especially since now she's in an environment that isn't threatening her survival. She may not want to remember, or risk remembering. She may hurt herself if she remembers."

"Have you told her this?"

"I will during our check-in tomorrow."

"Thanks, Doc." Bruce's gratitude was a clear dismissal. "We appreciate the update."

Sam whistled as the door shut behind Dr. Cho. "So...now what?"

From the looks on everyone's faces, he wasn't the only one wondering that.


	5. Wrong Side of The Surface

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The answer to the question 'now what?'
> 
> Also, somewhat fluffier than intended...

_Another week later..._

It was the mattress, you realized, shoving yourself out of bed as you gave up the futile fight to sleep. Like a marshmallow - you felt like you were going to sink through the damn thing and never stop sinking and the earth would swallow you whole. And then you'd jerk awake. Again.

Maybe Nat would help you figure out how to order a different one so you could get some damn sleep. She'd been awkward at first, but you suspected that you'd made your second friend here at the Avengers compound over last night's John Wick marathon, complete with Nat and Sam calling out scores through the fight scenes. Friends helped each other figure out things like new mattresses, right?

Sleep deprived and pissed off, you wrapped a blanket around you and stumbled to the kitchen. Food. Coffee.

Food _and_ coffee you decided, and then stopped in your tracks as you realized you weren't the only one awake.

Captain Rogers - 'call me Steve' - was sitting at the counter, drinking coffee and...sketching something on a pad of paper in front of him. He'd been the man who had stumbled with shock in your cell. On the other side was the brunette who'd kept him upright - Sergeant Barnes? Winter? Bucky? You'd heard so many names used interchangeably - and he was...

Cooking bacon, your nose informed you.

It was a domestic scene as they spoke low and soft with the ease of long familiarity - words quiet enough you couldn't hear them unless you got closer. Whatever the relationship there was, it was _solid_ , and for no reason at all, the sight made your throat dry and your gut clench.

Your therapist said that would be normal - well, as normal as any of this was - as your unconscious brain and conscious brain brushed by each other. She'd warned you not to push, not to try and reclaim the memories before your mind was ready. Like you even knew what that looked like.

Your traitorous stomach let out the world's loudest growl.

"Good morning," Steve smiled and you weren't sure how but you knew there was sadness underlying it. "Hungry?"

"Always." You grumbled, feet drawing you closer to the counter. "I didn't eat this much in the priso-"

There was a loud clang from the stovetop where Sergeant Barnes' metal hand was choking the life out of the pan handle. He glanced up, caught your eyes and winced. "Sorry. Bacon?"

"Coffee first."

For a few minutes there was only silence as you moved around the kitchen, grabbing 'your' mug - a novelty gift from Nat featuring a cartoon fox with glasses and flowing words that read 'I don't give a fox' - and poured some of the coffee. Barnes was paying the stove top a lot of attention, and Steve was sketching quietly. 

It was the nicest, least awkward moment you'd had with the super soldiers. And you realized that, whatever else happened, you couldn't keep going like this. Waiting for other people's reactions, reading them and understanding them but having no context for them. As you blew gently on the hot, life-sustaining beverage, you made up your mind. Everyone else might be living in the past, but damned if you weren't going to live _now._

"Can I...can I see what you're drawing?"

Both men froze at the question. Steve's ears went pink and you bit your lip - it was adorable and out of place on him. 

"Uh, sure." He turned the pad so you could see and you smiled at the image he'd etched there. " 's just something I do to let my brain relax."

He'd drawn Barnes, standing in front of the stove, with a realness that spoke to talent and practice.

He'd also added a 'kiss the cook' frilly apron.

"It's a good look for you, Barnes."

Barnes flipped you both the bird and you laughed, pretending you didn't see the split-second where both men froze, staring at you, before Barnes went back to the bacon and Steve spun the pad around.

"Pull up a chair," Steve offered and you did. "Couldn't sleep?"

You shook your head. "It's-"

"The mattress." Steve's smile was...wow, that was potent, you thought and hid your face behind another sip of your coffee. "Too soft?"

"Too...everything."

Barnes slid a plate piled - literally- with bacon between the two of you.

"Aw yes..." You hissed and blew on your fingers, having grabbed a still-hot piece. "Nisssshhee." You groaned as you chewed, and watched the world's tiniest smile crawl across Barnes' face as he shook his head. "So, you guys morning people or something?"

"This one is," Barnes jerked a thumb at Steve. "I'm just here for the food. Wilson might not be a super soldier, but he eats like it. If we waited for him, there would be no bacon."

"Bacon is important. Possibly the most important." You agreed and narrowed your eyes at both super soldiers who were laughing like lunatics. 'What? What'd I say?"

Barnes actually knuckled away a tear from the corner of his eye as he caught his breath. "Sorry, sorry. It's just..."

"We've had this conversation before, haven't we?"

"You remembered?" And just like that, the morning was ruined by the expectant tension in Barnes' body. 

Bacon grease roiled in your stomach as you shook your head. "No. Just a guess." The tension was too much. You had to get out of this room. "Thanks for the coffee. And the bacon."

"Y/N..."

You blinked rapidly as you rushed back to your room, shutting the door with a quiet click that normally made you feel incredibly happy - you had a door, and no one could lock you in, but you could lock them out - and sank to the floor.

Stupid.

Stupid to think that these people - these Avengers - were ever going to let go of the past.

The knock on the door was quiet, soft, and you knew, instinctively, it was Steve.

"Y/N, are you okay?"

You barked out a laugh. "I'm an amnesiac surrounded by people who know everything about who I was and I can't remember _any of it_. Define okay."

“We thought you were dead." You could feel Steve's presence on the other side of the door as surely as if he was in the room. "I watched - we watched - a building come down on you in an explosion that leveled a city block and incinerated everything organic at the site. It...fuck...it destroyed us. All of us. But especially me and Bucky." 

You knew there was subtext to those words you weren't catching. Like a song played at a frequency just at the edge of your hearing.

“I’m sorry I don’t remember any of you. Of this.” You gestured to the room and realized he couldn't see it. “I...I really wish I could remember _something_. Anything other than Rumlow and that prison and everything that happened there." You laughed and it was a bitter sound that you hated. "Why can't I forget any of that?"

"Did you just say 'Rumlow'?"

"Yeah. Brock Rumlow."

"He's the one who...he's..." The doorframe shook. "Open this door, Y/N. Right now."

You sighed, set the coffee mug next to the wall and pushed to your feet. When you opened the door, Steve had both hands planted on either side of the frame, and he was looking like...well, you weren't sure, but it was animalistic and mean and mad. Your feet stepped back before you even had a chance to process the movement.

"Brock Rumlow," He prompted. "He was there."

Your throat. Your throat was closing up, making you mute, and so you just nodded, and then flinched as a ham-sized fist slammed into the wall. 

"Steve?" Nat's voice rang out down the hallway, but you didn't move. "What's going on?"

"What did he do to you?"

You shook your head. No, no way. No way were you going to tell anyone other your avengers-appointed-therapist about those days, and even then, not without a crow bar prying away.

"What did he do, Y/N?"

You stepped back further into your room.

"When," You watched the captain struggle for control with a vicious brutality as Nat appeared over his shoulder. "When was the last time you saw him?"

"The day you broke me out."

He spun, and you had moment to witness absolute and complete wrath across those all-american features before he leveled a cold glare at Nat. "Rumlow's alive. I'm going to find him."

And then he left, leaving you and Nat staring at each other, wide eyed and open mouthed.

"Rumlow..." Nat's eyes sharpened first, taking in the scene and the exchange she'd overheard. "C'mon, Y/N. We need to talk."


	6. Your Therapist Won't Be Happy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your therapist would be so mad if she were here, but she isn't, and you need answers - so Nat gives them to you.

"I can't keep doing this." You told Nat.

The sun was barely up and the two of you were circling the wooded trails that ringed the complex. Both of you were carrying coffee, but in the hour of walking together, neither one of you had taken a sip.

"I feel like I'm drowning, and I need some fucking context or I'm going to just...slip below the surface and never come up again." You swore. "I'm walking on eggshells. I need to know...I need to know who I was and what's going on or I need to leave."

"Are you sure you want to know?" Nat asked, eyes sympathetic. "You might never remember, Y/N, and who's to say that's not a good thing?"

"I'm losing my fucking mind here. Either you fill me in, or I'm walking out. Today." You promised, sensing the hesitation in Nat's body language. "I can't keep going like this - I can't."

"Okay. But," Nat held up a hand. "I have conditions."

"Shoot."

"I won't tell you everything." She shook her head, already anticipating your protest. "No. There are some things that aren't mine to tell you, and there are some things that you deserve space from until you have a strong foundation under your feet again. That's condition one."

"Alright. I don't like it, but alright."

"Second condition, if you feel anything, anything at all that you can't handle, any new symptoms of anything- no matter how small or insignificant - you will go to Dr. Cho and you will get a full workup and whatever else she wants. I'm not about to risk losing you a second time around, and not to the goddamn past." At your nod she continued. "Third, we're going to take this slow. I'm not going to just...dump a bunch of information on you. We'll take it in pieces, and I decide when we're done for a while."

"Deal."

Nat exhaled, bracing herself as you reached a clearing. "Okay. Let's start...let's start near the beginning."

You took a seat on a felled tree trunk. "Let's."

"Your name is Y/F/N Y/L/N. You started off as an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. and you were assigned to the Avengers Strike teams after the battle of New York. That's how we all met. And you were...you were great at it. You and me and Maria - you'll meet her soon - used to...it was like having our own little club of badass women. We used to have competitions," Her laugh was warm, authentic. "About who was the scariest, the stealthiest."

"Who was it?" You couldn't help the craving you felt to know more.

"Different depending on the situation."

"And this was...normal? The Strike teams being close with Avengers?"

She waffled her hand back and forth. "Eh. Somewhat. You might've saved America's Ass a couple of times. It gave you and Bucky something to bond over - keeping Steve out of trouble, or pulling him out when he'd have jumped right in. Reckless idiot." She sipped at her coffee, made a face. "Barnes...who let him make the coffee again?"

"Okay, that explains some things." At her raised eyebrow, you continued. "Look, I don't have memories from before...well, before four years ago. But I _know_ things. I knew when you walked into the cell that you were all combat operatives. I knew how to train my body when I was imprisoned. I even played chess against myself, up here," You said, tapping the side of your head. "I can tell when one of you is trying to lie, and I know what coffee is supposed to taste like, and...functional things. But I have no idea how I know all of that. I feel a little better now, knowing that because of my background, I can tell how many knives Barnes is carrying, and not because I'm some kind of freak with a broken brain. Context."

Nat nodded. "I can see what you mean. Look, you're not the first person to be wiped by Hydra. And all of them were functional too, so it must be something about the way Hydra scrambles the memories."

"What happened to them? The other people?"

"The one I know? He ended up getting his memories back, eventually. But it was horrible, and he really struggled with it because of...because of other things that happened during that time. Don't push." She warned as you opened your mouth to do exactly that.

"Okay, okay. So I was a badass operative. Cool. What happened in Vienna?"

"Op went sideways in the worst way. Delicate political treaties, secret meetings. We were there helping with security. And we were betrayed by one of our own, using a device that Stark had built and mothballed back in the days before he was the Iron Man." Nat was attempting to be casual, but the tension in her shoulders gave her away. "You were on the ground when the device...did exactly what it was designed to do."

"Stark...blames himself?" You guessed, putting the pieces together.

Nat nodded. "Yes. It messed him up, badly. If he hadn't had Pepper and Parker, I don't like to think about how he would've handled it."

"And that was five years ago?"

"Yes."

You digested that. "So, where the hell was I before the prison?"

"That," Nat tried to drink more of the coffee and gave up, setting the mug down. "Is the sixty-four million dollar question we've all been asking ourselves."

"Where does Rumlow fit into all of this?" You tried to keep your tone neutral, but your heart started to race just thinking about the man who had tormented you - broken you - for the last four years. "I take it he's not a fan of the avengers."

"He was your Strike Team leader," Nat confessed. "He got outed as Hydra when the Triskelion fell, and we thought...we thought he'd been blown up by a bomb shortly after." She laughed but the sound was wrong to your ears. "Guess the fucker had another life left after all."

"That's why Steve reacted that way?"

"In part." Nat crouched in front of you, brushing a stray lock of hair back from her face. "And also in part because of _you_. Rogers...he didn't see it coming - Rumlow being Hydra - so that's a part of it. At least if Rumlow was dead, that...balanced the scales. But to find out he's been alive this whole time? And that he was...that he..."

"Wiped my memories and made me a super soldier and kept me imprisoned for four years?" You suggested and Nat laughed weakly.

"Yes. All that. It'll eat away at Steve for a while. He has strong protective instincts, and everything in him is screaming that he needs to make this right somehow because someone he cares about what hurt. And those instincts? They're stronger than ever because we just got you back."

"He'll go after Rumlow." At Nat's nod you pushed to your feet. "We need to stop him, before he leaves. If he's going to chase him down, he needs to know who he's facing."

"I think we're pretty aware of Rumlow's character."

You shook your head and pushed down the rising tide of anxiety in your gut. "No, no you don't understand. He's a monster, and I want him dead. That means everything he said to me might help you get inside his head and find him. And...and there's something else you need to know about him." At Nat's raised eyebrow, you shook your head. "No, the whole team needs to hear that. You all...you all need to know what you're facing."

"Are you sure you're up for that kind of a debrief?"

You felt your stomach pitch even as your spine steeled itself. "Not even a little. But I'm gonna do it anyway because if I don't and something happens that I could have stopped...I'm definitely not up for that."

For a long minute, Nat just looked at you, weighing, measuring. 

Then she nodded. "Okay then."


	7. Nobody Likes A Debrief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You tell the Avengers about your time with Rumlow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dark dark dark roads ahead! Details torture, alludes to non-con/rape, self-harm, etc.

It was harder than you thought, standing in front of the Avengers, about to talk about _him_. You couldn't sit still, couldn't bring yourself to take a seat in one of the chairs around the table as the rest of the team was doing.

Steve and Barnes - Bucky - _god_ , why did he have so many names and none of them felt right inside your head? - were carefully not looking at you. Vis' face was a calm, blank mask. Wanda looked like she was about to hug you. Nat...Nat's face was actually unreadable, and Barton's was tense.

Sam sent you a supportive smile, and you knew your returning one was wobbly as shit because the next words out of his mouth were, "Aw hell no. We're not doing this to you."

"Rumlow is a super soldier too."

The quiet in the room was louder than a bomb.

You licked your lips and started to pace. "I don't know enough about the hows or the whys, but he heals incredibly fast. He's strong, stronger than me. I'm faster," You added, because you needed to remind yourself of something positive. "I'm faster and my senses are better than his. But he's still a super soldier."

"How do you know?" Nat asked, stepping into the role of questioner and you felt relief lap at you. You could do this if Nat was asking the questions in that detached, calm voice. 

"Because I stabbed the bastard at least half a dozen times. Arteries, liver, even got the kidneys once...didn't matter...he just...healed. And _laughed_. It was amusing to him." Your hands balled into fists at the memory of his absolute and utter fucking delight over your violent outbursts. "I'm not sure how that stacks up against the Captain and Sarge, but you need to know that." You exhaled, blew the air out slow. "And he's...I mean, he's crazy. Actually insane. Something in his head...It's like the wires are crossed."

"Erskine's formula," Steve was staring at the table surface with an unwarranted fixation. "Erskine said it...it emphasizes everything inside a person. Makes a good man more good, a bad man more bad."

"And Rumlow was fucking nuts to begin with." Barton groaned. "Great."

"He's also smart and tricky. He likes to play games." Oh, your pulse jumped at those memories, and suddenly you could smell the prison, hear the harsh buzzing of the inefficient lights...

"What kind of games?" Nat's voice was steady, a sure shoreline as the memories threatened to pull you under and you swam for it, focusing.

"Mind games. Power games. He gets off on it. If you all have - if _we_ all have history, he's going to use that to push your buttons, and he'll do it in a way where you won't see it coming until it hits you. He'll do whatever he wants to get what he wants, and he doesn't give a shit about casualties." You shuddered. "Hydra keeps him supplied and feeds his needs because he's useful to them, and because, honestly, I think they're a little terrified of what he'll do if they don't. That's how...I think that's how I ended up..." You forced down the nausea, pushing on. "Hydra incentivizes good behavior. Usually they'll take a family member or a loved on and hold them hostage. But Rumlow...he doesn't have anyone he cares about. So Hydra...Hydra would give him...people. To play with." Electricity crackled behind your eyes as you shut them, but you ignored it. "And they gave him me, and he couldn't - he couldn't kill me or break me."

"Did he try to?"

Your back hit the wall and you slid down it without opening your eyes. "He did. Break me. He never...he hurt me, but he never tried - really tried - to kill me."

"You're here, and he's not." Nat reminded you. "And you're strong."

You laughed, and realized your face was wet as you opened your eyes. "If he plays the emotional angle, he'll tell you what he did to me. Probably in graphic, explicit detail. He'll enjoy telling you. And he'll tell you..." You let your gaze drift to the floor because shame was a hot ember in your belly. "He'll tell you about all the times I tried to end it myself."

There wasn't anything anyone could say to that.

"I think that's enough for today." No one argued with Nat's statement and you felt more than saw the team leave.

Bucky and Steve paused by the door, looking back at you, but you couldn't make yourself raise your head.

And then Nat was there, sitting next to you on the floor.

“You...you have to ask me about it all, don’t you?”

“Everything you can remember. Yes. You may have overheard something that could be useful. But we don't have to do it right now."

"No." You gritted your teeth. "I need to...I'm going to be a mess, but I need to do this."

Nat's shoulder bumped your own, a tactile beacon of warmth. "Then let's start at the beginning. What's the first thing you remember?"

“I don’t...I don’t remember how I got there. I just  _ was _ . It must have been early on though because I kept...kept trying to track the time. Days, weeks, months. Scratching tally marks into the walls. Staying active.”

“Did they interrogate you?”

“Yes.” You frowned, trying to push for details fogged by time. “Yes, I think so. A man named Gra...No, Pierce. A man named Pierce interrogated me.”

“What did he ask you about?”

"S.H.I.E.L.D. The Avengers. Fury, someone named Fury. And an..." You grabbed at the memory. "something he called an eight-oh-four."

Nat’s face was unreadable out of the corner off your eye - if the words meant anything to her, it didn’t slow her questions or change her pace. “What happened after the interrogation?”

“They left me alone, mostly. I had a cell on one of the blocks then. I was just another prisoner, but no one knew me and I didn’t know anyone.”

“And then that changed?”

You nodded. “I was in the yard. No one messed with me in the yard - I think I scared them. Or, I remember thinking that I did.” You laughed, and hated how grating it sounded coming from your throat. “Turns out they were all just afraid of  _ him.” _

“Who?”

“Rumlow.” Just saying his name made his face swim in front of your mind's eye and your stomach started to churn more.

“Brock Rumlow?”

“Yes. But I...I never called him Brock.”

“He was the enemy.” Nat’s nod was one of understanding and you felt a little weight lift from your shoulders.

“Yes. And he’s a monster.”

“Oh, on that, I have no doubts.” Nat paused for a breath and then plunged on. “Why did Rumlow scare the other inmates away from you?”

“Because I was...because he said that I was…” The world was going fuzzy around the edges again so you took several slow breaths trying to work up the courage to say it. You just couldn’t look anyone in the eye when she said the word. “His. And the way he would say it...”

“His.”

And suddenly the dam broke and you were sobbing like a child, arms locked around your legs, which were drawn up to your chest, and Nat was right there, holding you, letting you get all of the feelings you hadn’t been able to feel while caged like an animal. There was a low, keening noise, and you realized it was coming from your own throat at the exact moment the door blew off its hinges and both the Captain and Sergeant were stormed in, looking for an enemy to defeat.

“Out!” Nat ordered. “Now, Steve. Go!”

“No.” Barnes was the one who spoke, and was moving to the other side of you before you or Nat could say or do anything, scooping you up in his arms as if you weighed nothing. And despite the fact that you couldn’t stop crying, you felt...safe while you broke down in the arms of a these strangers who weren't strangers.

Eventually, your sobs turned to hiccups, before the Captain got you a glass of water and Nat rubbed soothing circles on you back.

"That's enough." Barnes informed Nat, and you watched the woman's face go pale. "I'm taking her back to her rooms."

You should've protested, but honestly, you were exhausted. It felt like...like something had just drained the life out from under you. So you said nothing at Barnes - still holding you - stood and carried you out.

The last thing you felt before you fell asleep was the couch beneath you and a cool metal hand draping a blanket over you before brushing your hair out of your face.


	8. Boundaries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nat tries to rein in two supremely pissed off super soldiers

Nat gave them a few minutes to make sure you were comfortable on the couch in your room before whistling, and jerking her head in the direction of the hallway.

“It took a lot out of her, but she’s a fighter.” She meant the words as comfort, knew they failed.

“You’re going to tell us what happened to her?” At her innocent look, Steve snorted while Bucky closed the door behind them. "I know you read through the medical file we took from the prison. And I know you told Tony to lock it up."

Nat shook her head. “Oh hell no, I am _so_ not going there with you two. Do I look like I ate stupid for breakfast?” She didn’t wait for them to answer, stabbing Rogers in the chest with a very pointed finger before narrowing her eyes at Barnes for good measure. “Look, I can’t imagine what finding her alive is doing to you boys, but the woman in there has been through hell.”

“She doesn’t even remember us.”

“Hydra doesn’t let you keep happiness.” Barnes swore and punched the wall with his non metal hand. “She’ll remember. I did.”

“Buck…” She wanted to hug the grumpy bear in front of her, but knew it wouldn’t be appreciated right now. “Let’s go into the kitchen. I’ll tell you enough. Not everything. No details. There are things that would be better if she shared them in her own time. I don’t think Hydra gave her many choices, if any, so it’s important that she not feel like she doesn’t have any personal agency right now.” She didn’t say her opinion - that super soldier serum wouldn’t keep you alive through  _ everything _ and it was important you not be put in a place where you felt driven to try again.

Bucky met her eyes, and it was the Winter Soldier evaluating the Black Widow's judgement. Professional to professional. And then he nodded and stalked off, heading for the kitchen lounge area that led to the elevators. 

Nat let out a big breath and motioned for Steve to go next. 

She waited until both super soldiers had sat down before she spoke, and she kept her voice low, in case you hadn’t been as passed out as you’d appeared to be.

“She wasn't a...test subject...for the super serum until she'd been there almost a year. Rumlow's...attention...started up not long after she was brought there. Pre-serum.”

“WHAT?!”

"You're saying Rumlow was hurting her before she..."

"Before she was able to take a super soldier sized beating? Yeah. And she tried...I mean really tried...to take herself out of the equation." Nat felt a wave of emotional exhaustion swamp her. "I think it's best for everyone involved if none of us go poking too hard at the eight or so months between Rumlow taking an interest and when she was transformed."

"You want us to sit here and not try to find out what happened to our girl?" Steve's voice was incredulous.

“Keep your voices down.” Nat moved to position herself between the boys and the hallway.  “Bucky, I know you think her memories will come back. They may, in time. But you should also prepare yourself that  _ this _ Y/N is the only one you’ll know moving forward.”

“But shouldn’t the serum help her remember?”

Nat shook her head. “You had the serum before Hydra scrubbed your memories.”

Steve saw where she was going almost immediately. “Hydra scrubbed her memories  _ before _ the serum.”

“She doesn’t remember anything before the prison.” Nat confirmed and watched two of the bravest, best men she knew flinch as they took the hit.

“How do you know that they won’t come back though?”

She felt like she was cutting the safety lines on Bucky’s chute, but she had to be honest, because the strength of the woman in the other room - no matter what you might think of yourself - had compelled something inside of Nat. 

And  _ that _ woman deserved a chance to really live, which you wouldn’t be able to do if Steve and Bucky were constantly expecting you to remember, to be the woman you had been before Budapest. “There are scars, from her time before the serum.” She held up a hand to forestall more questions. “No, I won’t tell you. It’s not my story to tell, and I think she's had enough of her privacy invaded. But they’re there. They haven’t healed, and from what I saw, they’re not even aging at an accelerated rate.”

“So you’re theorizing that the serum won’t heal her mind if it won't heal scar tissue retroactively.”

“It’s what we’ve got to work with right now. Cho knows, and she thinks it's best we give Y/N space to process, to begin to heal."

Steve shoved the kitchen knick knacks off the counter and then froze, every muscle rigid with a tension she understood all too well, fighting for that famous control against an infamous emotional reaction.

Cap and Sarge both had a deep, driving protective core. It was a foundational part of both their personalities, and the fact that the one woman they’d managed to find some semblance of happiness and peace with after all the crap life had given them was someone they couldn’t protect right now had to be ripping them up inside.

“Whatever you need to do to process the fact that she might never remember her life before that prison, do it before she wakes up. If you can’t deal with it, then I’ll get her set up in a safe house so she can be away from you both.” She knew both of the boys saw she meant it, was deadly serious. “You’re going to have to get to know this version of Y/N, and she’s going to have to get to know you, all over again if you want a shot at regaining what you had before.”

"I still want to kill Rumlow."

"That line is longer than you are tall, soldier." Nat snapped. "But we aren't going to find the fucker by tomorrow, and she'll still be here." The anger burned away the exhaustion momentarily.

Bucky's shoulders started to shake. And then he coughed. Hard. Was he...was he laughing?

"Sorry." He cleared his throat, but a hysterical sound bubbled up from his throat again. "Sorry, sorry...it's not funny...it's just.."

Steve looked at his partner like he was crazy and Nat was right there with him.

“Does this mean we have to let Steve act like a reckless idiot all over again?” Bucky finally asked, knuckling away a tear from the corner of his eye. "Do you remember what it was like trying to get her to date us the first time around?"

And then Natasha Romanov watched two Superfools laugh their asses off.


	9. Deja Vu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys try. They really do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a long chapter - there just wasn't a good way to break it up, honestly - and I feel like I should apologize for that?

It wasn't a wonderful way to start the day.

You felt...hungover when you woke up. It took you a minute to place the sensation, and just like with so much of your knowledge, you didn’t know how you knew what that felt like, but the inside of your mouth felt furry, and your body was stiff from the couch, and everything just...ached.

Shower. You needed a shower. Right. Now.

You stumbled to the bathroom - part of your brain still gaping as it had the day you moved in that you had a whole room. A whole, private room. Where you could shut the door and shower with no one watching you…

And then your eyes fell on the bathtub and felt a bolt of pure lust so strong it took your breath away.

It took ten minutes for the ginormous tub to fill with hot - oh, god, you almost cried - water. You found a little foamer, and by the time the water was up to the level to soak in, you were practically a noodle already.

The groan you let out as the hot water steeped your muscles was absolutely indecent and you didn’t care. Instead you closed your eyes, set your head on the edge of the tub and just drank in the pure, decadent moment and let time pass you by completely.

You weren't sure how you knew - there was barely a sound - but someone was standing in the doorway.

Your eyes flew open as you shot upright and you saw the Sergeant’s bright red face in profile as he kept turning, giving you his back. It should have sent you into another fit of panic. Why didn’t it?

It was more than he wasn’t Rumlow - the rigid line of his shoulders, the way he was hunching away from her, that strange metal hand covering his pink face while he gaped his way through an apology. “I’m...a...I didn’t...I’m sorry!”

You managed to grab one of the towels - holy crap, they were soft, and the size of a sheet - and wrap it around yourself. “Can you close the door? I’ll...I need a couple minutes to change.”

“Yeah. Sure.” He practically fell over his own feet to get out of the bathroom, pulling the door shut with his hand behind him.

You dressed, quickly, and then toweled your hair as you stepped back into the bedroom.

Barnes was still there, clearly just dying from embarrassment. Nat was there too, and the smug smile of amusement she sent you allowed you to push aside the last of your nerves.

“What’s up? Round two?”

“If you’re up for it in a bit. But Sarge thought you might like to grab something to eat since you slept straight through the night. Then we’ll give you the semi-official ten-cent tour.” Nat’s smile didn’t fade at all. She was clearly enjoying the hell out of Barnes' embarrassment and you wondered if they were a couple. You could see Nat enjoying her partner’s obvious discomfort over something like seeing another woman naked. “Hope you like pancakes.”

Without another word, the spy strode out the still-broken door, leaving you to stare after her.

“She hopes I like...pancakes?” You parroted to the nearly empty room. “What does that mean?”

Sarge looked like he was about to say something, but just shook his head and followed the redhead. 

Guess you’d just have to find out. Tossing aside the towel, you shrugged and went to go see what it was all about.

Pancakes.

Piles of pancakes. Golden, glowing cakes of butter-soaked batter. 

Your stomach growled so loudly that Steve looked up from the griddle where he was flipping more pancakes.

“Morning. Help yourself.” He gestured to the last place setting at the counter, the other two seats having already been taken by the other two agents who were engaged in a conversation in...russian, you thought. “You might have to fight Bucky for the blueberry.”

Bucky said something short and clipped that sounded a lot like a pithy insult as you slid into the seat next to him and stabbed a fork into the top four pancakes in the pile, placing them on your plate and then drenching them in maple syrup. You were halfway through the stack before you remembered table manners and you froze.

Steve was watching you with unhidden delight. Nat was staring in a way that said you had clearly surprised her. Bucky’s face was...unreadable.

“They’re good.” You muttered a little defensively.

And like that, Nat and Barnes went back to their conversation, and Steve slid the last of the pancakes off the griddle.

“You think these are good, you’ve gotta get Buck to make you omelets. He says I don’t make them the right way-”

“You don’t.” Nat and Sarge said at the same time.

“Milk does not belong in an omelet.” Buck, Bucky, whatever his name was - god, none of them seemed right - told Steve seriously, disdain pulling the corners of his lips flat.

Steve shrugged and forked his own pancake straight from the plate to his mouth. “Anyway.” He chewed and kept talking so you followed his cue and kept stuffing your face. “He has more creativity in the kitchen than me. I can do the basics - pancakes, meat and potatoes, the standard stuff - but Bucky just comes up with the best things. He says it soothes him, cooking.” Steve grabbed a bowl and passed it to you. “Have some fruit.”

You did and you stopped after the first bite to bite down on your lip and keep a moan from rolling out of your mouth. Fresh produce...god, when was the last time you’d eaten fresh fruit? Juice sticky and sweet...

Apples.

Your mouth was filled with ash suddenly and you felt your stomach turn sour. You bolted out of the chair and ran for the room.

You barely made it to the bathroom and the toilet before your stomach heaved and everything you’d eaten made a return visit.

Someone was holding your hair out of your face as you emptied you intestines - or maybe they were emptying you - and rubbing those soothing circles on your back while murmuring soft words of comfort to you.

Two someones, you realized. Barnes was on one side, hand moving slowly and steadily across your back. Steve on the other, holding your hair back. Nat came in with a glass, filled it in the sink as your stomach finally finished and you leaned one arm against the edge of the toilet.

“Give us a minute, fellas.” Nat’s voice was a soft command, and you felt both the men tense.

“They’re fine.” You said, mostly because it seemed like they were ready to fight Nat if she tried to kick them out. “I’m good now. Just...give me a minute.”

“Did you eat too much too fast?” Steve asked.

“No.” You staggered to your feet, as shaky as a foal, and shut the toilet lid, then sat on it and flushed it. “What do you think I am, five?”

“I think you haven’t eaten that much food - that much rich food - in one setting in a long, long time.”

“Yeah, well, you all would know better than me.” You couldn’t help how bitter your voice sounded. “Sorry. I’m...I’m not great with other people seeing me be...vulnerable.”

“Oh, we get it.” Nat handed you the water glass. “But that’s not what just happened. Are you going to tell us about it, or do we have to spend the morning in medical getting you checked out?”

You drained the glass, and gave Steve a grateful look when he took it and refilled it without having to ask. You drank half of it, then held it, fiddling it in your hands, letting the smooth surface of the glass anchor you here, now.

“I was eating the fruit,” Your stomach pitched again at the thought of it “and I thought ‘when was the last time I had fruit?’ and it was like I was right...back...in there.”

“Not a happy memory, huh?”

You laughed and it was an unhappy sound. “Yeah. Yeah, not by a long shot.”

“You need to talk to someone.” Barnes said. “Not us. Or Nat. A professional someone. With more trauma experience than Stark's usual retainers.”

“That would...that would probably be good. Yeah.”

“I’ll set it up.” Nat offered.

“He brought me apples.” You didn’t know why you said it, but once the words started, you couldn’t stop them. “That was the last time I had fruit. He was...he was so happy about something. He brought me a box of apples, and then he cut them up and fed them to me one slice at a time. Like...Like a...like a fucking pet.” Your vision blurred. “And I let him.”

You heard something shatter, felt only air between your hands, and realized you must have dropped the glass, and your vision swam a little more.

When it cleared, you were looking at Nat, the other woman crouched in front of you, eyes locked on your own. 

“Listen to me,” Nat said in a voice that would’ve made trained soldiers snap to. “You did what you had to to survive. And I promise you - we promise you - Brock Rumlow is never going to fucking touch you again. He can’t ever get to you now. We won’t let him.”

“Who the  _ hell  _ am I to you people?”

Nat’s smile was a lot sad now. “Oh, honey, even if you were no one to this team, this organization, we wouldn’t ever let that monster near you.”

And again, for reasons you couldn’t explain, you believed her. Absolutely.

“I seem to just be breaking down all over you guys.” You wiped at your eyes - yep, more water. Greaaat. “Maybe I ought to see that professional someone sooner rather than later.”

“This afternoon.” Nat promised. “But for now...why don’t we go take that slightly less intern-level tour?”

“There are parts of the complex we can’t take you to.” Nat apologized, her hand firmly wrapped around yours as you walked, trailed by the two giant soldiers who didn’t seem to be willing to let you out of their sights. They were probably just waiting for your next breakdown. “But everything I show you today you’ll have access to day or night. The scanners,” She held up her hand to a panel next to a door and it opened. “Have already been programmed with your information - you’ll have mostly free range of movement. No escorts, no locks.”

The rush of gratitude you felt was pathetic. Gratitude that Nat didn’t make you ask. Gratitude for the understanding that you needed to be able to move.

And the sad truth? You were grateful that your new world had  _ some _ limits. Between your room and medical and the shared spaces you'd already been through, you’d seen more than you had for the last four years. Your world, up until a few weeks ago, had consisted of a cell and a dirty pit called a yard, and a dirty, dingy medical room.

“We have a fully equipped fitness center and training gym. Equipment’s available to all, but the gym has to be reserved - a lot of the team uses it for training and practice.” Natasha explained each of the rooms as you passed through them. “Locker rooms are over there - I highly recommend the hot tub.”

You passed out of the training space and into a library. “Books, books, books.” Nat sang the words. “If you want something we don’t have, let F.R.I.D.A.Y. know and she’ll get it for you.”

“Wow.”

“Right? Impressive.” Nat led you out the door on the other side of the library, and you were walking back to the residential building, back to 'your' kitchen, where Nat led you to the opaque far wall. “And last but not least, the patio.” She scanned her palm along the frosted glass wall and suddenly the frost vanished and you were looking out a floor to ceiling view of a lush, thick landscape. Color, bloom, buds...you even saw butterflies and bees moving through the air. It was like something out of a fairytale.

Your legs went out from under you at the sight and you sat there, numb.

Outside. Sunlight. Plants. You sat there, lost time just staring at it all.

After a while, you reached your fingers forward, let them rest on the glass.

“Do you want to go out?” It was Bucky who asked, and you realized he had joined you on the floor, legs crossed casually. As if you hadn’t totally spazzed out, as if it was totally normal to be struck dumb by the sight of the outside natural world.

There wasn’t any particular look on his face, but there was something...something about his eyes that told you he understood just fine, and you wished again that you had those memories, because you were certain in your past life you would have  _ known _ why.

“No,” You said finally. “I, uh. I think I’ve seen enough new stuff for today.”

He held your gaze for a long moment, evaluating something. “When you’re ready, you can go. The grounds are...safe for you.”

“Thanks.” You pushed to your feet, stumbled as your legs woke with vengeful pins and needles, and he caught you. He always seemed to be catching you...And you seemed to always let him. Why? Who  _ were _ these people to you?

You realized you’d said it out loud when Buck - Bucky? Replied. “We’re your family. No matter what.”

“You don’t even know me.” You pointed out. “Not,  _ now _ me, anyway. I don’t know you.”

“Don’t you?” It was contemplative, as if he wasn’t questioning so much your mind as your response to them, this place. It disturbed you, the level of insight he had into the thoughts you'd just had yourself.

It also comforted you.

And didn't that just scare you as badly as Rumlow did?


	10. To Be Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, posting is going to slow down from here on in because of real-world things (cries) that just need to be taken care of the next few weeks. I'm going to aim for a chapter every few days. Thank you all so much for reading and commenting!

“I think that went pretty well.” Natasha dusted her hands as in ‘job well done’ and hopped up onto the counter. “Don’t you?”

Bucky snorted incredulously. “What morning did you just live through?” He jerked his thumb in the direction of the building that housed the library and training rooms where you were now meeting with the new trauma shrink they had on retainer. “She all but puked her guts out eating fruit - retraumatized by fucking fruit - and then got overwhelmed by four rooms and a goddamn window.” His metal arm pulped the plum he’d been planning on eating.

“She’s got to process it.” Nat met his gaze head on, despite the evident fury and frustration in his voice. “You know that. I didn’t expect her to start processing so soon.” She frowned. “I think some part of her knows she’s safe here - that she’s safe with you. Otherwise I don’t think she’d be able to rebound so quickly from each episode, or let you see her that way.”

“How do we do this, Nat?” Steve asked, and Bucky felt a pang through his chest to see his best friend so..worn. “How do we do this without hurting her?”

Nat shook her head. “You can’t. And that’s not because of you. She’s...oh hell,” Natasha swore and then hopped down to pace the narrow space between the counters. “Look, I won’t tell you details - I won’t. But Rumlow...he really did a number on her. Physically, emotionally, mentally. Not to mention whatever trauma she endured during interrogation, or the effects of long-term imprisonment. You know,” She stabbed a finger in Bucky’s direction. “You know what it’s like to not have a history or a past that you can remember.”

“But I did.”

“Do you remember what it was like when you didn’t though? When you and Steve first found each other again? When you were trying to remember, after you walked away from Hydra at the Triskelion?”

He did, and he swore. It was terrifying, not being able to trust your own mind. 

But he’d had Steve, the reckless idiot. And that stupid promise…

Til the end of the line.

But what did you have? Nothing. Nothing from either one of them. Not a note, or a stupid line or a single thing that could anchor them in your memories.

He was starting to see what Natasha was driving at, and so did Steve if the swearing from behind him was any indication.

“We have to tell her everything." Panic was a skittering bug across his insides. They couldn't...they couldn't lose you like this.

Natasha facepalmed. “Are you listening to me, moron? She doesn't have enough context, enough of a framework, for this world yet. She's been okay so far because we've been letting her remember at her own pace - she's in control. She _needs_ to be in control." She slipped into russian then, muttering darkly about stupidity and love and morons.

"Nat, we can't not tell her. She's going to start wondering why we can't let her out of our sights. And someone is going to slip up and say something - you know they will. Isn't it better that she hears the truth from us?" Steve argued.

"She’s going to think you’re crazy, and even though she _might_ subconsciously trust you, that doesn’t mean she’s ready for a full reveal of a life she doesn’t - and may not ever - remember.”

“She can’t find her way back to us if she doesn’t know we're here for her. Steve started that reaction for me.”

The slashing look Natasha sent him would have made any sane man nervous. “You two had a lifetime of memories to draw on, a staggeringly co-dependent friendship, and a stupid, idiotic, self-destructive promise.” But she sighed, and Bucky knew they were wearing her down. 

Nat had to be missing you just as much as they were - he knew it, knew that the not-so-former spy was one of your closest friends. Knew that Nat didn't have many of those.

He knew how much it meant to have someone look at you and not see the blood on your hands as the whole of you.

It was the way you used to look at him.

“Just...just give her some time. Let the therapist do what they can, let her build some solid ground under her feet before you go yanking it away.”

“Yanking what away?” Your voice was like frozen steel - brittle and cutting as all three of them spun to see you standing in the doorway.

This time Nat joined Steve in swearing. Bucky felt frozen.

You narrowed your eyes at Nat. "I agreed to your damn conditions." 

_Wait, what? What conditions?_

Bucky sent Nat a glare of his own, promising a conversation about that later.

"I didn't want to," You continued, your frame practically vibrating with fury and hurt "but I did because I trusted you. I know you're not telling me everything because you don't want me to get overwhelmed, and because some things aren't yours to tell, but I swear to god, I will kick your slippery, lying ass if you're keeping things _about_ me from me." Your gaze darted to him and Steve and Bucky felt his heart sink somewhere in the vicinity of the floor. There was nothing but suspicion on your face. "I will kick _all_ your asses." You clarified, fists balling at your sides.

They’d been talking about you. About past you. You’d walked in time for that much, but you wanted to see what they did when you confronted them. Wanted, paradoxically, for the answer to sooth this sense of betrayal that was fluttering under your collarbone.

You rubbed at the spot absently and repeated the question. "Yanking what away?" When no one answered you, you felt your jaw tense. “I think you people better explain who the hell you think I am to you. Right now.”

Steve stepped towards you and you flinched. He stopped, then sank onto one of the counter stools. “Have a seat, Y/N.”

“Tell me what’s going on. What’s really going on.”

The therapist you had just met with would be shitting bricks if they saw this. An older woman, she’d encouraged you to take your time, to explore slowly, gradually. To brace yourself for more episodes, to be patient as your mind purged itself of all the emotions you hadn’t been able to outlet during your time as a prisoner. She’d stressed not pushing to reclaim memories, not trying to force your mind to heal.

“We will.” Bucky promised, taking a seat next to Steve. “But it...it may take a while.”

“Then you better get started.”


	11. The Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks for your patience! This chapter was just..ugh..so hard to write. I'm not happy with it TBH, so I may come back at a later date and play with it, but the story has to start moving forward now, so here we go!

“You know you were recruited to the Avengers’ Strike Teams after the battle of New York.” Natasha was the one who started talking. “You killed the curve for your cohort, ended up as second in command within a couple of years.”

“You were practically running the teams when we met you,” Bucky added, the admiration in his voice warming you even as it made your nerves prickle in warning. “You’d made a name for yourself at S.H.I.E.L.D and it was clear that you were going to - you did - with the Avengers.”

“We knew you, from missions and training.” Steve’s neck and ears were turning red. “You, ah, may have saved our lives a couple of times.”

“Steve’s. You saved Steve’s life a couple of dozen times.” Bucky clarified with an obvious amusement and affection that twisted something in your chest. “The first time he went out of the jet without a parachute…”

“I thought you were crazy,” Steve confessed. “I mean, who jumps out of the plane with a spare parachute and tries to stop Captain America?”

Bucky raised his hand and Nat shook her head. You couldn’t help the smile the byplay prompted.

“So you were a big reckless mook,” You summarized, trying to move the conversation along. You didn’t need individual memories - you needed to know  _ who you were _ to these people. You needed to know why you were responding to them. You needed something tangible to...what was the word Nat had used...build a framework on. “And we’ve already established that I was some kind of badass.”

“You were our friend.” Nat corrected. “You...fit. You didn’t take shit from Stark, and you treated Bruce like a person, and you didn’t ask any of us to be anything other than what we were. Do you know how rare that is for people like us?”

You wanted to throw your hands in the air. “No! That’s the whole fucking point! I’m not asking for a stroll down memory lane - I’m asking for a fucking road map so I don’t...so I don’t...drive myself off a cliff trying to guess where the edge of cliff is!”

“You were my best friend.” Nat’s quiet statement made you wish you could pull back the outburst. “And I don’t have a lot of those. Losing you...losing you ripped a fucking hole in me. In all of us.” She sighed. “I know this is a lot to take in, y/n. I get that you’re in an impossible place. But so are we.”

“Because you’re all waiting for me to wake up tomorrow with my memories.” You tapped over your heart, which was beating wildly in your chest. “ _ I’m _ here. Not...not  _ her _ \- from before. Me. And I may only have four really shitty years worth of life experiences to draw on, but I’m a fucking person. All on my own.”

“You’re right.” Steve’s statement drew shocked looks from Bucky and Nat, but he kept on. “You’re right. We keep...expecting you to remember. Us. This. Any of it. And you may not. Ever. And that’s not fair to you.” He sighed and you watched the air go out of that huge body. “What...what do you need us to tell you?”

You swallowed, heart beating in your ears. “I need to know who I was - what was my relationship with all of you? How does,” Your voice stuttered over his name. “Ru-Rumlow fit into this? What happens to me now?”

“You stay safe,” Nat started with your last question. “You heal. Hopefully here, but if you don’t feel comfortable with that, we can set you up off the grid somewhere. After that...it’s up to you. You can...you can get out, have a life, retrain for the teams…go civilian if you want.”

“And we’ll take care of Rumlow.” Steve promised. You met his eyes and saw a burning retribution behind all that star-spangled blue that seared you with its intensity. “For good this time.”

“Rumlow used to be my boss, didn’t he? On the Strike teams.”

“Yes.” Bucky admitted. “He...wanted to be more. You weren’t interested. He kept trying to persuade you, right up until the Triskelion fell. You wouldn’t turn against Steve though.”

“And then we all thought he was dead.”

“Yes. Until we ran into him in Lagos, a couple years later.” You had the sense that the ‘we’ Steve used didn’t include Bucky, because the brunette’s fists were clenching and unclenching without him seeming to realize it. “He tried to blow us up, but Wanda managed to divert the blast, and we thought he was really, really dead.”

“Does this happen a lot?” You asked, curious despite yourself. “Bad guys coming back from the dead more than once?”

Bucky and Nat shrugged simultaneously, then exchanged a small smile.

“More often than we’d like.” Steve admitted. “But Rumlow was a special case. He hated us.”

“He hated the two of you more than anything,” Nat’s words were directed to the super soldiers. “He hated that Steve really is a stand up guy, with or without the suit. And he hated that he was passed over for Hydra’s super serum experiments, which is why he hated Barnes.”

“He liked being able to control the Asset. When I was with...when Hydra controlled me.” Bucky’s neck was corded with tension now, and your stomach twisted with that strange sense of knowing that  _ you should know why _ again. “He liked that he had power over me as the Winter Soldier, and he liked being able to use his knowledge of who I was to hurt Steve and I.”

“That sounds about right.” Your matter of fact tone had all of them looking at you. “Mind games. That’s his big kink.” Your stomach was churning. “Well, that explains a lot about the last four years then. Why he was...was so interested in me, why he never tried to really kill me. It was a two-for-one special. Get back at the girl who rejected him, and hurt someone close to you two.” You laughed. “Oh my god, he must have been just...fucking giddy...that I couldn’t remember rejecting him.”

“There’s more,” Steve said softly.

Oh here it came, the big band-aid these two super soldiers were afraid to rip off. The thing Nat didn’t want them to tell you...

“We were involved with you.” Steve spit it out in a big rush, the words running together.

You could  _ hear _ the record screech in your mind. “What, like...involved, involved? Like, romantically?”

Bucky and Steve nodded.

“Go me.” You said to no one but yourself and Nat laughed. “Sorry. Inappropriate. It’s just…” You gestured to the pair of them. “I may be back from the dead and all kinds of fucked up, but I’m not blind, you know?” You tried to sort this piece, this  _ personal _ piece, into the loose scaffolding that made up your world. “Okay, so past me was a little bit of a player, dating around on the team and all…”

“Y/N,” Bucky said your name and you felt some unnamed emotion shudder through you. “You weren’t dating around the Avengers. You were dating both of us. Just us.”

“B-both of you?” You could see they were both absolutely serious. “At the same time?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry - no, I don’t believe this. Captain fucking America and the Winter Soldier -” Your heart was trying to climb out of your body through your throat at the thought of it. “Were not  _ dating _ me _. At the same time. _ I’m...I’m not in a fucking YA  _ love triangle _ .” Was your voice hysterical? It sounded a little high at the end there...

“Wasn’t much of a triangle, doll.” Nat grinned and shrugged a shoulder. “The  _ three of you _ were dating. Although there was apparently a lot of fucking about it according to the scuttlebutt.”

You just stared at the spy. “Did you really just use the word ‘scuttlebutt’?”

“Tea. Gossip. Whatever. I’m a spy. People tell me things.” Nat nodded at the Cap and Sarge. “These two chuckleheads couldn’t wait to tell you. I told them to let you settle.”

“Why?”

Nat’s flippant smile vanished. “Because there’s a very real possibility you may never get those memories back. And it seems cruel to tell you about a past you may never remember. May never  _ want _ to remember. It should have been,” The glare she gave the two men was absolutely scathing. “Your choice, not theirs.”

You’d thought you could handle this. You couldn’t handle this. Not now. Your head...your head felt like it was going to explode, and so did your chest. Too many feelings, so many questions…

“I’m going to my room. I want to be left alone.” You saw Bucky start to open his mouth. “Alone.”

You didn’t wait to see their responses.

You slammed the door behind you and collapsed, shaking, onto the couch.

Dating two men at the same time, together? Two really, really good looking men, you admitted. Men who both drew you in, in different ways.

It wasn’t that you thought they were lying - it was a pretty fucked up lie to tell someone, and you had seen the truth of their statements on their faces when they’d told you. Your handy dandy spy instincts were at least useful.

It made a lot of sense when you lined it up against your reactions - it would certainly explain why they’d been so hopeful you’d remember, and why you felt...safe, despite the intensely awkward moments you’d spent with them. Safe enough to break down, to react in the moment...

But Natasha was right - You didn’t remember. Might not ever, despite the fact that your unconscious clearly did remember some things, like that they were safe. What did they expect this information to do? You could barely keep yourself together as a person right now, let alone be involved in some  _ menage a trois _ that belonged in some steamy romance book, not real life. Not your life.

Oh god, did they expect you to have sex with them? To pick up wherever you had left off?

“Shut up, shut up, shut up.” You hissed at your own brain. “Just...just stop.”

You weren’t even sure you could have sex now - now that you had the ability to choose - to say no - you were pretty sure you were never ever letting any man touch you like that again.

You sank onto the floor and wished you could wipe the memory of today out of your mind as easily as Hydra had wiped your old life away.

_ Meanwhile...somewhere far away… _

“Sir?” The Hydra analyst handed him the file. “We found her. Upstate New York.”

“The Avengers compound?” He asked, opening the folder and looking at the images printed in grainy black and white.

“Yessir.” The analyst’s face looked clammy with fear and he bit back on the smile that threatened to crawl across his facce . “One of our spy satellites managed to catch a picture of the new arrival. It’s an 87% match, sir.”

Brock Rumlow smiled.


	12. Feels Like A Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fallout from the Talk, life at the Avengers compound, and then Tony Stark comes to visit

“They told you,” Sam said before the gym door even closed behind you, the sound extra loud in the quiet of the early morning. 

You looked up and saw that it wasn’t a question as you dropped your bag. “Yes.”

“And how do we feel about that?”

You scowled at him. “I got your ass up at six in the morning to work out, didn’t I? I’m...I need to move, do something, Sam. There’s too much in here,” You tapped your temple. “And I’m going to just go crazy - crazier - if I sit with it any longer.”

For a long moment, he just looked at you, and you got the sense that he was evaluating you.

“Okay. But we’re taking it easy - you have to build back up slowly.”

“Thank you,” The relief that washed over you was practically tangible. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

And for an hour, that was all that was said about it. You warmed up on one of the treadmills, let Sam walk you through a strength training workout. It felt good to train - to push, and pull, and lift and curl. Your body felt awake, energized by the time you rolled out.

Both of you were pleasantly surprised by how much your body was already recovering.

“Must be that super soldier serum,” Sam mused. “Still, better not to push it. That’s enough for today.”

You debated trying to wheedle a little more time out of him, but had to acknowledge he was probably right.

“Not ready to head back to the residence?” He asked, understanding.

“Yeah.”

“Let’s take a walk then.”

So you did, and Sam told you stories of his time before the Avengers - growing up, in the service. Meeting Captain America himself.  You were laughing, nearly in tears, as he recounted stories from the team, even as you noticed he left out the ones involving you. 

“In the vents?” You had to ask after he recounted a particularly _intense_ game of hide and seek.

Sam nodded, solemn as a judge. “Yup. Don’t know why Barton thought it would work. Kinda can’t believe it did.” His eyes gentled on you. “Look, y/n, I don’t want to overstep, so you can tell me to can it if you want…”

“I knew it.” You shook your head in mock disgust.

“What?”

“You’re about to go big brother on me, aren’t you?”

“I’m just saying, I’m here for you. You’ve had a world dropped on you, and you’re handling it like a champ. But you’ve grown on me - kinda like a fungus -”

You laughed again.

“And I’m here for you, is all I’m saying. You, whether you get those memories back or not.”

You felt your eyes water a second before your vision blurred. “Thanks, Sam.”

He pretended not to notice as you wiped at the tears.

Life started to settle into a routine.

You’d get up early and train - usually with Sam, or Nat if they weren’t on missions - and have breakfast. You made sure to time it so you could avoid Steve and Bucky, though a couple of times you’d caught each other in passing.

To say it was awkward between the three of you now would’ve been a massive understatement, but you just...you weren’t ready, and they seemed to understand that at least.

After you ate, you’d sit and read or sketch or sit in that cottage porn garden until it was time to meet with your therapist. Some days the sessions went good and you could tell you were making progress. Sometimes...sometimes not so much, and you’d lose the day while you hid in your room and avoided  _ everything _ .

But the more time went on, the more you learned that you could trust the shrink, and the more you began to process, the fewer of those days you had. The less you hid.

You had your own relationships with these people now - your own experiences. 

Clint was almost never around, but when he was, he was the perfect split between concerned parent and wisecracking asshole. And when you put him and Nat in the same room together? You’d dinged the duo ‘The Giggle Twins’ - but only in your head.

You didn’t need two master assassins looking for revenge, duh.

Sam was like a brother to you - and one of the few people you’d allow into your room on a bad day, finding comfort in his stories and silence equally. The first bad day you let him hug you while you both sat on your couch, you’d both pretended not to see the water that had pooled at the edges of his eyes. 

He also had the infuriating habit of taking the last of whatever food you just happened to be eating.

You and Bruce had bonded over Movie Night when you’d both discovered you liked the classic, old black and white movies. You’d had a laughter-filled time quoting the lines back and forth and tried to pretend you hadn’t felt Barnes’ and Rogers’ eyes boring into your back. Now, once a week or so, you showed up at the lab with an old movie and a new flavor of Ben & Jerry’s to try.  You hadn’t met the big guy yet, but Bruce was alright.

And Nat? You had a best friend back, and though you knew she was holding back out of concern for you, it was  _ nice _ to have someone to snark around with or debate the merits of Chunky Monkey over Americone Dream. Planning pranks. Online shopping since, as Nat had graciously pointed out, you couldn’t just wear Avengers lounge gear forever. She’d even introduced you to Maria - and now the three of you were thick as thieves.

Or maybe thick as spies was a better way to put it.

Maria wanted you to come down to D.C. and visit one day, and despite the fact that leaving the compound made your palms sweat - just a little - you were a little excited by the idea. You’d promised to think about it, and changed the subject to her nieces’ upcoming recital.

There were only two topics you didn’t talk about with your new/old besties.

Rumlow.

And two super soldiers whose eyes you could feel on you every time you were in the same room.

Which, thankfully, wasn’t very often. They were the first to rush off a new mission and you got the sense that they were somewhere between rejection and giving you space.

You ignored the fact that your chest tightened every time F.R.I.D.A.Y. alerted you they had left, and didn’t ease until the A.I. notified you of their return.

“I need something to  _ do _ .” You told Nat finally, about three months into your recovery. “A job, a role...I need a purpose or I’m going to go out of my mind.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” She promised.

Which was how you found yourself working on pre-action analysis for upcoming Avengers missions. Pouring over documents and satellite images, putting together notes, breaking down patterns of behavior to present a clearer picture of what could be used, what had to be watched out for.

You weren’t anywhere close to ready for the field, but it made you feel better to know that you were doing everything you could to keep your friends a little bit safer when they were away.

And you had been a little surprised to notice that you liked this work - it was a puzzle, to be solved. You liked the agents you worked with - most of them remotely - and you liked how easy it was to lose yourself in the flow of data and information and variables that streamed across your desk.

And then Tony Stark came to the compound.

All of your friends were nervous.

So nervous that Movie Night was a complete failure.

Clint wasn’t even shouting diving scores and throwing popcorn at the screen while the ginormous ocean liner sank, tiny people jumping from its decks.

“Okay, that’s enough. F.R.I.D.A.Y? Hit the lights.” You looked around the couch and floors. “You all better just tell me what’s going on. You’ve been acting stupidly weird all afternoon, and it is seriously harshing my ice cream buzz.”

You saw Barnes duck his head to hide a smile, but no one else appeared to appreciate your mood. In fact, they all looked like they might be a little sick.

“Fess up.” You demanded to the room at large.

“Stark’s coming up here tomorrow.” Sam said finally.

“Oh. Okay.” You rolled your eyes as none of them relaxed one bit. “Guys. It - Vienna - it wasn’t Stark’s  _ fault _ . You know it, I know it, he  _ should _ know it.”

“I’m gonna,” Clint jerked his thumb towards the kitchen. “Y’know, make some more popcorn.”

“I’ll help.” Bruce was up and they were moving before you had a chance to point out that the popcorn bowl was still full.

“Okay...you guys are acting weirder than usual, which means you’re about to drop something unpleasant in my lap.” You pulled your legs up under you on the couch and waved your fingers. “Let’s get it over with. Why is Tony visiting making you all look like you went a couple rounds on the Cyclone at Coney Island?”

Sam’s eyes slid silently to Steve, so you turned to face him.

“I may have...I may have said some things to Tony after you died.” Defensiveness and shame lined those heavy shoulders as God’s Righteous Man - still your _favorite_ zinger for someone who swore like a sailor and took an obnoxious amount of unnecessary risks - refused to look you in the eye. “It was...I meant to hurt him, and I did.”

“Yeah,” You got it, really, but… “But...not dead. That’s gotta count for something.” The lightbulb went on in your head. “Ooohh. That makes it worse, doesn’t it?”

And you realized the tension you’d been feeling all night wasn’t actually about  _ you  _ for a change. It was about Tony and Steve being around each other now that you were not dead.

Sympathy rose in you - it was obvious Steve was carrying around shame and guilt, and no, you didn’t know what exactly he’d said to Tony, but you had some thoughts - and you crossed to him before you realized what your feet were doing as you took one of his hands in yours. 

“Hey,” You whispered, sensing more than seeing Nat and Sam head for the kitchen to give you a semblance of privacy. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

“I was...I was cruel to him,” Steve admitted. “You..you would’ve been ashamed of who I turned into after you…”

“We,” Bucky’s hand grasped Steve’s other hand, the metal whirring lightly as he squeezed supportively. “We both said and did things we aren’t...aren’t proud of.”

“You lost someone you loved. I’m pretty sure Tony’s gonna understand that, even if it hurt, even if it  _ was _ cruel.” You caught those star-spangled blue eyes with your own, held them. “And me? I’m pretty sure if I lost someone I loved like that...I’m pretty sure I’d burn the world down.” You saw the stunned surprise on Steve’s face and shrugged. You would. “So I don’t need to know what you did when I died. I don’t need to hear the words you said, or see the things you did - you were grieving and in pain and as long as you didn’t take innocent lives, you have  _ nothing _ to be ashamed of in my book.” You meant every word.

Longing -  _ so much _ \- crossed Steve’s face and it was painful, too painful to watch and not do something about, so you sank down on the couch next to him and opened your arms.

As Steve wrapped his own arms around, you saw over his shoulder to the kitchen where Nat was mouthing ‘we’ll leave’ and you nodded to let her know you were okay.

And then you held Steve Rogers and let him cry while you and Bucky both petted and murmured words of comfort until he fell asleep.

“You guys looked pretty cozy on the couch this morning,” Sam teased as you blocked his next strike.

“Most uncomfortable sleep I’ve had since I got here.” You admitted. “Steve’s fucking  _ heavy _ .” 

Sam laughed and you took advantage of his distraction to sweep in with a heel hook that took his feet right out from under him. “Okay,” He coughed from the mat. “I might’ve deserved that.”

You grinned and helped him to his feet. “And Barnes snores. So. Loud.”

“Stop.” He was grinning too though, and then the grin faded. “Everything okay?”

You shrugged, not sure how to answer that.

“Look, as your honorary big brother,” You snorted and Sam continued “There are some things about your life I don’t  _ ever _ want to know.” He leveled those dark eyes at you. “Like your sex life. Never. But...if you wanted talk about two super soldiers and how you…” His face made an expression like he’d bitten into something sour. “Feel. About that whole thing. I’m here for you.”

“Okay, one, I would never talk to you about sex. You have no sex life of your own, so it would be a waste -”

“Hey!” Came the indignant reply.

“Two, Nat and Maria would maybe actually murder me if I told you about my nonexistent sex before them. And three,” You ran a hand through your sweat-damp hair. “I don’t know what I’m feeling. About...that...I just...I don’t have any memories about them and I still couldn’t let him hurt like that. I just couldn’t, Sam.”

“You have a big heart.” Sam handed you your water bottle as you stepped off the mats. “That’s a good thing, y/n.” He wrinkled his nose as you ripped open a protein bar package and offered it to him. “A big heart and terrible taste.”

You shrugged, about to fire back about last week when you'd gone to do laundry and caught him dancing to Marvin Gaye next to the dryers, but his eyes were wide over your shoulder.

You turned.

Tony Stark was white as a sheet, standing a few feet away. Nat was on one side of him, Pepper on the other, and a younger man - maybe college age? - was watching Tony with obvious concern.

“It’s...You’re...You’re really you.”

“Yup.” The urge to duck your head and scuff your toes was a little too strong, so you made yourself meet his gaze levelly. “Just me. I ah, don’t have any memories. From before. But, for what it’s worth...you’re not...it’s not...None of this was your fault, okay?”

“You don’t look so hot, Mr. Stark…” The young man said. Something about him..his voice...your brain felt like there was an icepick in it when you looked at him. 

“Can it, kid. We’re having a moment.” Tony shook off Pepper and Nat. “I’m allowed to be stunned by miraculous revivals.” He was watching you, closely, all at once clinical and familiarly. “You are...you really are y/n?”

Oh the hope in those words, it crushed you. It would’ve overwhelmed you a few months ago. Now you knew it was because these people - these Avengers - had such a deep capacity to care for each other. Just like the others, Tony was teetering on that fine ledge of hope and fear.

It was the exact wrong moment for the flashback to hit you.

_ “I don’t know if you’ve ever been in a fight before,” Sam quipped. “But there’s usually not this much talking.” _

_ You snorted even as you groaned and pushed back to your feet. That was rich coming from Wilson. You were fairly certain he had to be related to Wade Wilson somewhere along the line because you’d never met a more one-liner last name set of men. _

_ “Oh right, sorry, my bad.” The kid in the blue and red costume’s apology sounded sincere. Where the hell had Tony found him? _

_ Aaand then he was swinging towards Sam. _

_ Bucky moved to intercept, and the kid pushed both of them through the glass barrier as your heart stopped inside its chest. As the kid swung off, you peered over the edge in time to hear Sam’s muttered, “I hate you.” _

“You brought a kid to a superhero fight?” You were sitting on the floor, disoriented as all hell, but the words still snarled out of you. “Seriously, Stark,  _ a kid _ ? What is  _ wrong  _ with you?”

You could have heard a pin drop in the gym before the realization hit you.

_ You remembered. _


	13. Slow Landslide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What else will you remember?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all - I'm posting this tonight as today was a bit of an upset kind of day and I decided fanfic was the appropriate outlet for some nervous/waiting around kind of anxiety.
> 
> Likely have another chapter for you all sometime tomorrow - this thing is just so eager to be written

“Stop. Stop! ENOUGH!” You gave up on patience and bellowed the room full of medical staff and Avengers into silence.

The moment you’d been able to stand, Sam and Nat had rushed you to medical, where Dr. Cho had proceeded to run what felt like every last damn test known to man. Before you’d even had a minute to breathe, the rest of the Avengers were crowding into the room, including Tony, Pepper, and the young man you now remembered was Peter Parker.

“Everyone who doesn’t hold a medical certificate,” You snarled “has exactly five seconds to get the fuck out of my room.”

You saw the protest forming on Steve’s lips, the argument brewing in Tony’s demeanor, the resistance in the set of Nat’s jaw.

“I’ll remind you all that I am currently armed. Five,” You started counting, and were gratified to see Stark, Pepper, Sam, and Peter all make for the door. “Four.” Nat and Clint went next, though Nat shot you a resentful look over her shoulder. “Three. Bruce, you’re not a medical doctor. Get out. Two.” You turned your gaze on Bucky and Steve. “Out. Now.”

It almost surprised you that they went, but not that they stopped not even a foot outside the door to the room.

If you weren’t wound so tight, you’d have laughed at the stubborn set of Bucky’s shoulders or the pouting scowl on Steve’s face as he crossed his arms over his chest.

You ripped the electrodes - why were there so many? - off your chest and stalked across the room while Dr. Cho made protesting noises, and stopped just shy of the door, staring the crowd outside down.

And then you closed the door and shut the blinds before walking back to the gurney and having a seat.

Dr. Cho was gaping at you.

“So...what’s the word, Doc?” You asked and watched her resume her professional demeanor. 

“Physically, you’re fine.”

“Great.” You studied her face. “There’s a but, isn’t there?”

“Some of the damage from the memory wipe appears to have healed. Very, very subtle healing, over a very small space.”

“Hence the flashback.”

“Yes. Though this is the first incident, I believe it is now much more likely you’ll begin regaining memories from before the wipe.”

“So does this…” You heard murmuring from outside the door, had a realization that made you facepalm. “Fucking super soldiers.” You got back up, walked back to the door, opened it, and scowled up at Bucky and Steve. “Stop using your super hearing to share my medical business with everyone. It’s rude. I’ll tell you what Dr. Cho says later.”

“We can’t tell everyone what we’re hearing if we’re in the room with you,” Bucky tried out a charming smile and you blinked because, wow, yeah, that was potent.

“Get lost.” You growled and shut the door again, hearing Nat and Clint laughing this time. “Sorry, Doc. Where were we?”

The long and short of it was that you were still in limbo. 

There was no promise you’d remember more - just the possibility you would.

This had two immediate impacts.

One, the team was ecstatic that you were more likely to remember.

And two, you were terrified that you would lose yourself to past you.

“You’re the same person,” Nat pointed out, handing you a margarita that Maria had mixed. You were having a much-needed girls’ night - no boys allowed, and it was good.

And boozy, if the drink you sipped was any indicator of the night ahead of you.

“You really are.” Maria confirmed. “You just...have a blank spot.”

You snorted. “Yeah, a blank spot of several decades and life-shaping moments. Oh, and super soldier relationships. No biggie.”

“Stop bragging.” Maria ordered. “Some of us can’t get a date - not that I’d want to date anyone from D.C. - and you have two hulking, hunky, heroes who practically trip over themselves every time you walk into the room.”

Pepper laughed and gave you a helpless look. “I’m sorry, y/n, but it’s an accurate description.”

“I thought this was Girls’ Night?” You complained. “No boys. No boy talk.”

Maria booed, but the conversation moved on to movies and you were grateful.

Later, you and Nat escorted a very tipsy Pepper back to her and Tony’s suite. You weren’t quite sure how Pepper managed to walk so gracefully after so many drinks, but the woman was officially on your ‘do not fuck with’ list now.

You and Nat had cackled as you left Pepper in the hands of her somewhat bewildered, mostly-capable husband before making your way back to the common room.

“You doing okay?” Nat asked, with a friendly shoulder bump.

You shrugged.

“Okay, as your best fiend...I mean, your best friend...I have to pry at an opening like that.” Nat threw herself down on the couch, patted the space next to her. “Talk.”

“I’m worried about what I’ll remember,” You confessed. “Not just about you guys or my life before the Avengers. But I was in that prison for a while before they wiped my mind, and those aren’t going to be happy, good memories, Nat.” The rock of foreboding in your stomach told you enough about what you suspected was in that blank space. “I don’t...I’m doing well. I don’t want to backslide.”

“We’re all here for you.”

You nodded, knowing now in a way you hadn’t a few months ago that it was true. “I know Nat. I know.”

Another month went by.

Then another.

You continued working as part of the analyst team, and with your therapist. No new memories were pushed to the surface, even if Parker had hung out with you for almost a week straight at Stark’s suggestion. You hadn’t minded - Peter was a good kid, whip smart - but you’d been glad when he had to head back to the city to spend some time with his aunt and start getting ready for college.

The summer heat was beginning to wind down, prompting Tony to throw an impromptu pool party.

You laughed at the cannonball contest - Steve won, by virtue of mass alone - and lounged with Pepper in the shaded umbrella-covered chairs. Nat and Clint started the most competitive game of ‘Marco Polo’ you’d ever witnessed. You stuffed your face with burgers and sweet potato chips and ice cream.

You didn’t want the day to end.

The memory hit you mid-stride, as you moved to make space for one of the few S.H.I.E.L.D agents Tony had deemed worthy of an invite, and you had the horrible sensation of falling backwards, towards the pool, as the memory swept you under.

_ Pain, pain everywhere as you gasped for air. Something...something internal was broken. Everything was broken if your screaming nerves could be trusted.  _

_ Blood. _

_ There was blood, heavy and thick between your thighs, streaking downward and your heart clenched in fear. No… _

_ Rumlow laughed, a happy triumphant sound and something that wasn’t flesh and blood inside of you snapped and shattered against the cell floor alongside your broken body. _

The memory warped, twisted, moved forward in time before you could grasp it.

_ Weeping. You were weeping, silently, while in the background the prison’s medical doctor spoke in low tones. Your wrists and ankles were rubbed raw by the thick banded cuffs holding you to the gurney. Your entire body was nothing more than an aching bruise. _

_ “..can’t keep doing this..” The doctor’s voice was low, insistent. “Eventually, she will find a way to do it.” _

_ Rumlow’s voice now, as you stared out the grimy window. “What about the solution?” _

_ “She’s not a likely candidate for survival at this point and I don’t...you’d need approval…” _

_ “Then I’ll get it.” Rumlow’s snarl was absolutely certain. “In the meantime…” _

Like a kaleidoscope, the scene twisted again dropping you somewhere else, some time else.

_ Fire. You were strapped to the gurney and every single ounce of your body was on fire, excruciating in its intensity. Every muscle in your body clenched as another wave of heat hit you, and you heard the heart rate monitoring beeping, beeping, so fast, too fast... _

You gasped, breaking the surface of the water and the memory simultaneously.

Bucky’s arm was around you, holding you up as he swam for the edge, where Nat and Pepper both pulled you from the water, letting you flop onto the deck like a fish as you coughed up what felt like half the Berring Sea.

“I’m okay.” You managed to cough. “I’m...I’m gonna be okay.” The smile you sent Nat was weak, and it was a long moment before she returned it. 

“I need a couple minutes. And maybe some help.” You muttered as you staggered to your feet. “Nat?”

“Here.” And she was, taking your arm in hers. “Your room?”

You nodded, still reeling from the memories and the near-drowning. You turned to glance over your shoulder once, to send Bucky a grateful nod. “Get me out of here,” You whispered to Nat, low enough that it would escape super soldier hearing. “Get me out of here right now.”

Nat was waiting for you as you when you came out of the shower. The water had done nothing to warm you back up, but it had helped put distance between you and the recovered memories.

You weighed your words as you pulled on fresh, dry clothes.

“How much of my medical file did you read from the prison?”

“All of it.” She met your eyes evenly, and you knew that you were talking to the Black Widow, the professional, the spy and the Avenger more than your best friend. “Just me and Cho. No one else has seen it, and no one ever will.” Her eyes sharpened on you as you moved stiffly to the edge of your bed and sat. “You remembered something from your time there.”

“Yes.” You felt exhausted, like you’d run a marathon. “It was...fragmented. Pieces of memories, linked, but not whole.”

“What did you remember?”

You met her eyes. “Something that Steve and Bucky can’t ever know. Ever.”

“What else?” She knew, you realized. She knew exactly what memory you were talking about.

You licked your lips, a nervous tic you couldn’t help. “I remembered one of the times I tried to kill myself. And the serum...I remember when they gave me the serum.”

“Do you want to talk about it? I can get Dr…”

“No.” You shook your head. “I don’t...I can’t talk about it yet.” Grief, dulled by time but not gone, passed through you like a wave and you clenched your hands into fists as it slammed into you again. “I just...I can’t go back to the party. I can’t...be around them.”

Nat didn’t need to ask which ‘them’ you were referring to. “What do you need?”

“A friend.”

“I’ll get Sam-”

“No! No, Nat. Just...stay? We can,” You searched your brain for something that wouldn’t be too much right now. “We can put on something dumb on Netflix and just...hide in here?”

Nat wasn’t surprised at all when she left your room hours later to find Sam, Steve, and Bucky waiting in the kitchen. She’d left you, sleeping fitfully, but sleeping, and F.R.I.D.A.Y had promised to alert her or Sam if you started having nightmares.

“She remembered something.” Sam stated flatly.

“She did.” Nat ran her hands through her hair. “She’s sleeping now. She’ll see the shrink tomorrow, first thing, and check back in with Cho too, just to be safe. F.R.I.D.A.Y. will let us know if she starts having nightmares.” She kept her tone even and factual, but the truth was, she wanted to find Brock Rumlow and kill him in the slowest possible ways so badly that her hands shook with it.

Some things, even for the Black Widow, were just beyond the pale.

“It wasn’t good, was it?” When she shook her head, Steve went to open his big dumb mouth, but Bucky’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“It wasn’t good.” She confirmed. “And I won’t betray her trust like that. Not now.”

Bucky nodded, and Steve did a moment later. “C’mon, punk. Let’s try and get some sleep.”

Sam waited til both of the men had left before he crossed the room and said in a voice too low to carry, “She remembered something Rumlow did to her. Something more horrible than the four years of living with him.”

Since he didn’t ask a question, Nat didn’t respond.

“I’ve seen a lot more of her scars than the others,” Sam continued, “Training with her. And I know there’s some shit in there that I can’t ask about. That’s fine,” He added, “Because you’re her friend, and I trust you to know where the line is to keep her safe and keep her whole.”

Nat read the suspicion in his eyes and gave the smallest, tiniest nod in answer to a question he hadn’t asked.

“I only need one thing from you.”

Nat tensed.

“When we find Rumlow, you let me help you kill him.”


	14. Confessional

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Life is a cha-cha; one step forward, two steps back"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay y'all, not great things happen as reader regains more memory. Self-harm, grief, loss, etc.
> 
> Also, I am officially juggling too many things irl (job hunt, family stuff, medical stuff, mental stuff), so I'm sorry for the cliff hanger ending - likely update with the next chapter on Wednesday.

You woke screaming for the umpteenth time in a row, drenched in a cold sweat as your door slammed open and your room was flooded with light as Sam raced in.

You dropped your head into your hands, panting, and realized your throat was raw as Sam climbed up next to you, rubbing comforting circles on your back. “Sor-”

“You better not be about to apologize,” Sam stopped you. “You know the rooms are soundproof - F.R.I.D.A.Y had me up at the first sign of trouble.”

It’d been a miserable three weeks since you’d been hit with the memories at the pool party and the strain was getting to you. Night after night, half-memory half-dreams that left you sleep-deprived and disconnected as hell.

Sam and Nat were bearing the brunt of it - neither one of them was far behind F.R.I.D.A.Y’s alerts.

You’d refused to talk about the first memory with anyone, including your therapist. No, you just...you couldn’t share that with anyone just yet.

But every time you saw Steve and Bucky, it was sitting there on your chest like a goddamn facehugger alien, stealing your breath and tightening everything inside you to an unbearable level of tension.

You’d done your best to avoid the super soldiers, and knew that it hurt them after the progress of the last few months.

You just knew you weren’t ready to lie to them like that - even if it was only a lie of omission. Your rational brain knew they’d have to find out some time. Some time before they caught up to Rumlow, because that sick sonovabitch would use it like a blade to draw blood from both of them.

But your emotions were too unstable to be trusted to do it, so you had started to withdraw again, hiding back in your room and the analyst's office and the gym. You skipped Movie Night a couple of days ago because you just couldn’t sit in a room with the whole team and have them  _ wondering _ .

Even worse, you felt like everyone - including yourself - was just waiting for you to break apart.

“I know you don’t wanna talk about it,” Sam murmured. “But I’m here if you change your mind, y/n. You know that, right?”

You felt your whole body shudder and something came unclenched in your ribcage and you were sobbing into Sam’s t-shirt without any warning at all. He didn’t say anything, just wrapped his arms around you and let you get it all out.

“I...I can’t say it, Sam. Why can’t I just...say it?”

“You’re grieving, baby girl,” Sam pushed your hair out of your face and planted a brotherly kiss to your temple. “You’ll talk about it when you’re ready.”

“I can’t keep going like this.”

Sam’s exhale was nothing but relief. “Thank god. That is the first sensible thing you’ve said to me.” He chuckled as you gave him a half-hearted punch to the shoulder. 

You sat in silence for a while, saying nothing.

“You can’t tell anyone.” You swallowed hard finally. “I mean it, Sam. No one. Only Nat and Cho know.”

“I’ll take it to my grave.” He promised.

“I...I had a...a miscarriage. In the prison.” It was the first time you’d said the words out loud. “That’s...that’s what I remembered.”

You told him in low tones what you’d remembered about discovering the pregnancy. About Rumlow’s anger, the beating that had led to the miscarriage. The attempts to take your life after.

“It’s why they gave me the serum. Why they wiped my memory.” You confessed it all, hiding your face in the wall of Sam’s body, unable to look anyone in the eyes. “They knew I wouldn’t stop...so they put me in a...a c-c-coma until Rumlow got his hands on the serum.”

And then you cried yourself back to sleep in Sam’s arms, and finally fell into a dreamless state.

Bucky found you the next afternoon - you’d slept almost the whole day away - in the garden, watching butterflies dance between the last of the summer blooms.

“Can I sit?” He asked.

You shrugged, and scooted over on the bench to make room.

“Look, y/n, I know…” He ran his hand through his hair, obviously struggling to find the words and you couldn’t help but feel as miserable as you sensed he was. “I know you don’t know Steve and I well enough to talk about what...what happened to you. And that’s...that’s okay.” He sighed. “You’re not the only one who’s had Hydra fucking with their memories. That’s all I wanted you to know; you’re not alone.”

He was the other person Nat had referenced, you realized, remembering your long-ago conversation when you’d first arrived at the compound. 

“I’ll leave you be,” He said, and went to push himself back to his feet.

“Wait,” Your voice was a croak, courtesy of your crying jag, and he froze, waiting for your next words. “Just...what...what was it like for you? Remembering?”

His eyes met yours, held for a moment, and then he turned to look out at the garden. “Saying it sucked balls would be an understatement.”

You barked out a short laugh. “Wow, such poetry, Barnes.”

He gave you a small smile, but it faded fast. “It was horrible. I’d get...I’d get these pieces. Sometimes dreaming, sometimes awake. I started carrying around a notebook to write things down in, sketch things I saw. It…” He swallowed hard and you wanted to offer him comfort, so you snaked your hand down to his and gave the metal a light squeeze that just said ‘I’m here’. “I felt like I was losing my mind.”

“Yeah.” You agreed. “Yeah, it does, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t know if I got it all back or not.” He admitted. “I’m...I’m kinda glad. I don’t want to remember any more deaths. Hydra used me to shape a century, stripped me of my ability to choose. I know - up here-” He tapped the side of his head. “I know that I’m not at fault, but it’s still my hands that pulled the trigger.”

“How long...did it take for you to…”

“Get functional?” The corner of his lips quirked up. “I mean, Wilson would say I’m still dysfunctional, so…Honestly? It took years. Two years on the run. Couple years in Wakanda. I had Steve, and that idiot hasn’t met a friend he’d give up on. I had you.” He added. “As a friend, first.”

“What were...what were we like as friends?”

He visibly relaxed back into the bench with a sigh. “Ah, let’s see...we met after a mission.” He smiled, eyes off in the distance as if he could see it. “Steve did something reckless - again - and I was stomping over to chew his ass out but by the time I got there, you were already snapping at him. You made him step back,” The amusement was plain to see on his face. “So that was my first impression of you. Wasn’t long before we were bonding over keeping Stevie in line.”

“I can see that,” You admitted. “There’s just too much…”

“Stupidity? Recklessness?”

You chuckled. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Yeah. He was like that before, but Erksine’s formula just gave him somewhere to put it all.”

“What was it like for you, before?”

“We were best friends. Grew up together. I got...I got drafted for the War. I was so worried about leaving the little punk behind - I knew he’d get into trouble…”

That was how Steve found the pair of you a few hours later. His heart twisted at the sight of you on the bench in the fading sunlight, Bucky smiling - really smiling - and your head thrown back in laughter.

It was enough, he reminded himself. Enough that you were here, and healing, and just  _ not dead _ .

But he wanted to be a part of this new life you were building, with your indomitable willpower. Your resiliency. You took his breath away all over again.

Your eyes slid past Bucky and landed on him and he stayed where he was, waiting.

He saw the moment you realized what he was doing - giving you control - and when you nodded, it was like fireworks went off inside him. 

“What lies is Bucky telling you?” He asked.

“No lies, punk.” Bucky shot back. “Just the truth.”

“Oh yeah? Like how you made me ride the Cyclone at Coney Island ‘til I puked my guts out?”

“He left that one out,” You chuckled.

“I’ll bet he did.” Steve playfully griped and was rewarded with smiles from his two favorite people. “What else has he been telling you?”

“What you were like, before the serum. During the war. How you found each other again. It’s kind of an incredible story.”

It killed him that you couldn’t remember your own part in it, but he buried that ruthlessly. “It was less incredible when I found him in Bucharest after looking for his ass for two. Whole. Years. ‘I’m not gonna kill anyone’,” He pitched his voice low in a passable imitation of Buck and watched the man’s face turn red at the memory. “Uh-huh.”

“I didn’t, did I?” Bucky’s defensive tone had you and Steve smiling at each other.

“Only cause I was there to stop you.”

“Hey fellas,” Nat shouted from the door. “I’m looking for my badass bestie. Yay tall? Thinks she’s funny? Questionable taste in men?”

“Cute, Nat.” You fired back even as your face flushed pink, unfolding your legs and standing. “Real cute.”

“Hey guys,” Sam joined Nat, but his tone was tense and Steve felt his own body stiffen in response, even as he instinctively put you behind him and Buck moved to cover your back. “We, uh...we got something.”

“What?” Steve asked.

Sam’s eyes moved to your face. “We got a lead on Rumlow.”


	15. Never Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers - and you - are understandably tense after Rumlow's sighting. You make a decision.
> 
> And you see Star Wars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay, I put some fluff in here because I had a craving. Sue me.

“I need you to train me.” You dropped the defiant words in the gym and watched Steve and Bucky both stop trading blows to face you head on. “I need you to train me like a super soldier.” You clarified under the dual weight of their stares. “Sam and Nat are great, but I have to be ready to go up against...against Rumlow.”

“Not. Gonna. Happen.” The growled words came from Steve’s throat as if they’d been run through a gravel pit. He literally rocked back on his heels, digging in.

You fought past the wave of anxiety that swept over you. You knew, you reminded yourself, you knew this was going to be an uphill battle against protective instincts you didn’t fully comprehend yet. “You’re the only ones who can. Sooner or later, he’s going to find out I’m alive, and he’s going to make a run at me. I need to be able to hold him off. Or kill him, preferably. I’d settle for being able to hold him off ‘til you can get there.”

“Not if we get to him first, doll.” Bucky’s tone was far less snarly, but you knew the calm was only a surface veneer.

It’d been four days since Rumlow had been spotted, heading into an airport in France, bound for a plane to Atlanta. From there, he’d vanished, and no amount of digging by the Avengers, Stark, or even Maria - who had contacts _everywhere_ \- had turned up a trace.

You knew, in your gut, that it was just a matter of time.

Which was why you forced down your feelings of disquiet, and pushed. This was too important. “You can’t guarantee that.”

“We can. We will.” Steve crossed his arms over his chest, as if that settled it, and you exploded - four days worth of worry and stress and fear chipping away at your calm.

“You aren’t hearing me!” You snarled. “I will. Not. Ever. Be. Helpless. Again. Not with him, not with anybody. I will go insane if I have to sit here and twiddle my thumbs for another  _ hour.  _ You either help me do this, or I will find someone who can.”

“Steve,” Bucky at least seemed to take you at your word, though from the shape his lips were making, he really didn’t _ like _ it. That was fine, so long as they agreed. “She has a point.”

“No.”

“We’re better equipped than anybody else out there to help her push. Use that tactical brain of yours, Stevie.” Bucky pointed out. “You’re Captain fucking America, and I’m a former assassin. Between the two of us…”

“If we do this,” Steve said, leveling the eyebrows of justice at you. “ _If_. If we do this, we do it our way.”

You nodded. “Deal.”

Two weeks later and you groaned as you hit the mat for the ten millionth time today.

You had seriously underestimated Steve’s protective drive.

Of course, the Winter Soldier wasn’t taking it any easier on you.

You knew you’d be black and blue by the time you were done here today, despite Nat’s cheers of encouragement and tips shouted from the sideline. You also knew now that those bruises would be gone by morning - it was amazing what a super metabolism could accomplish when you were well fueled, and you were so exhausted at the end of each day that getting to sleep wasn’t an issue anymore - you were barely conscious by the time you fell into your bed these days.

“You just gonna lay there?” Bucky sneered and you saw red.

You rolled back, landed in a soft crouch. “That all you got, Barnes?”

Nat clapped appreciatively. “You got this, y/n. Remember what we worked on.”

Your days were split between physical training and intelligence work now. Rumlow’s sighting had the whole team on edge, and everyone was pushing. 

In the morning, Steve dragged your ass out of bed for running - at  _ his _ pace. You might’ve been faster, quicker, but goddamn if the man didn’t have an endurance that left your thighs crying.

Then you’d eat, review the overnight reports, drink juuuuust enough coffee to be awake and Sam would haul you off for conditioning. The man, you discovered, had a diabolical love of deadlifts. And weight training. And plyometrics. And whatever else he could get his hands on to torture your muscles.

Box jumps, you now knew, were the devil.

You’d leave, sweaty and exhausted, stumble your way up to the analyst's office, grabbing food from the kitchen there and work through more reports for a few hours til Nat - and sometimes Clint - dragged you to the gym for assassin style hand-to-hand.

_ Then _ you’d grab more food, work a couple more hours, and meet Bucky and Steve for additional combat training. Sometimes hand to hand, sometimes knives, sometimes guns.

At the end of the day, your feet were dragging and you’d stay awake long enough to shower off the blood, sweat and tears, pour a nutrient dense super smoothie down your throat, and pass out on the nearest horizontal surface.

Upside? You were too tired to think about Rumlow, or your memories, or anything that wasn’t just getting through the next couple minutes.

“Movie night tonight,” Nat called as you slammed into the mat. 

Again.

“Who’s turn is it to pick?” Bucky asked, like he hadn’t just suplexed the breath out of you.

“I hate you,” You grumbled. “Get-off.”

“Tony.” Nat grinned at Bucky’s groan. “It’s his turn, Barnes.”

“He never picks anything good.” Bucky groaned as he helped you back to your feet.

“Can I get a pass on this one?” You asked and moaned as both former assassins shook their heads. “Why do you hate me? You know I’m just going to pass out before the end of the opening scene.”

“But you’re cute when you snore.” Bucky  _ winked  _ at you and smiled as you flushed from head to toe. “We’re done here today.”

“But-”

“You’ve made a lot of progress.” He steamrolled your objection with the ease of someone who’s main hobby included running herd on the two hundred plus pounds of righteousness that was Steve Rogers. “You’re remembering a lot, muscle memory and all. You’ve earned a reprieve for the night.”

“Really?” You asked, even as Nat tossed you a water bottle and towel. “This isn’t another one of your ambush tactics where Steve and Sam are going to attack me on my way back to my room?”

“Hand to god. Or whatever.” Bucky promised with that stupidly pleasing smile still on his face. “Git gone.”

You winced. “No more country music for you, Barnes.”

Even with the shortened session, you were more than happy to lay on the couch while Movie Night buzzed around you. You could smell popcorn and candy, you just...couldn’t make your arms move to bring it from the table to your mouth. It was too much work.

“You look…” 

You managed to narrow your eyes at Steve as he stared down at you, his lips twitching with amusement. “If you finish that sentence, Rogers, I swear, I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

He grinned at you, boyish delight at your -sorta- teasing and tapped your feet. You obliged, swung them down to the floor and he sank into the couch next to you. Before you realized what as happening, he’d pulled your feet back up and into his lap and he was pressing, rubbing in slow, smooth circles...

The groan you let out was practically pornographic and you realized the room had fallen uncomfortably silent. You glanced around, saw the mix of stunned faces and faces two seconds from laughing.

Clint lost it first, doubling over, and it was like someone uncorked the last two weeks’ worth of tension as the rest of the room joined in.

Steve just smiled and kept on.

Which was fine with you.

Jesus, if his hands were this talented with your  _ feet… _

You caught the sexual thought and waited for panic to hit you. When a second passed and it didn’t, you realized Steve had stopped, was staring at you with a question on his face.

“It’s nothing.” You reassured him. “Had a thought. Just...keep doing that.”

“If you’re going to let out more noises like that,” Tony leered “At least get a room. God knows I designed that suite for the three of you…Shutting right up.” He held his hands up as Bucky glowered at him. “Movie time, movie time. Let’s see...what shall we watch tonight?”

You let your head loll back onto the couch and just gave yourself over to the sensations traveling up your legs while the team bantered back and forth about what to watch - a comforting ritual no matter who’s night it was to pick.

“What’s that one about?” You asked when Nat and Clint started arguing about the terribly dated fight-scenes and digital add-ins and bitching about ‘Lucas’ vision’. Steve’s fingers stuttered and stopped. “Hey, Rogers, I didn’t say you could stop.”

Steve was staring at you with unhidden delight. “Oh. My god.” He looked up at the rest of the room who were all wearing a similar expression. “Is this...Is this what it was like-”

“When we pulled you out of the ice, Capsicle? Yes.” Tony answered. “Okay, that settles it. Star Wars it is.”

You didn’t make it to the end - the last thing you knew was Clint’s outrage over the special effects and some kind of sand pit monster with too many teeth and the feeling of Steve’s comforting hand softly petting your calf.


	16. Action Packed Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You head into the field, reclaim part of yourself, and oh yeah, YOU REMEMBER everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's references to suicide attempts in this chapter my lovelies, so please proceed with care (it gets fluffier again towards the end) but I promise this story is not even close to done yet ;)

The all-call for the Avengers came in three days later.

You were right behind Nat, running up the gangplank of one of two Quinjets that were fired up and ready to go when Bucky snagged your arm. 

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m going with you.” You rolled your eyes. “C’mon, Buck. I’m not helpless, and from the sounds of it, you guys are gonna need all the help you can get.”

“Barnes,” Nat warned over her shoulder as she completed the last of the pre-flight checklist.

“You’d be safer here.” 

Your hand rose of its own accord and stroked the side of his face softly. “I know this is hard for you to accept, but I can’t be the woman who doesn’t act when bad things are happening.”

His eyes had closed as your palm slid across his cheek, some powerful feeling moving through him. When they opened, fixed on you, you saw acceptance, and felt like your heart was about to burst. “Okay.”

“Are we going?” Stark asked, striding past both of you with a suitcase under his arm that he tossed to you carelessly. “That’s for you, y/n. You’re welcome.”

Bucky grabbed your free hand with his own and then you were both strapping in for what looked to be a bumpy flight.

“Tony,” You gushed as you fired another electro-magnetic projectile at the semi-sentient robot that had been trying to kill you. “This is the best gift ever.”

“Glad you like the suit, kiddo.” Tony chuckled through the comms. “Remind me to show you the advanced accessories when we get back to the compound. You’re gonna love it.”

“More than I already do? Not possible.”

“Focus.” Steve’s voice was a heavy, warm sound. Reassuring, even as the fight raged on. “Stark, any ideas on how to shut this down faster? We’ve got them contained to the outpost for now, but there’s a city within a couple clicks. Civilian casualties will be inevitable.”

“Cool it, cap.” Tony’s reply was cut short for a second as Iron Man blasted two more robots out of the sky.

Oh yeah, killer robots _that could fly_.

Man. You really were down for shit like this, you thought as one of the robots landed an electrified prod on your ribs. The suit - the beautiful, beautiful suit that you were never ever ever letting go of again - absorbed the brunt of it and you brushed the rest off. You’d taken harder hits in training and were able to reach into its skeletal frame and rip the inner workings out with a satisfying scream of metal.

_ This _ , you realized, was something you’d been missing as you moved deeper into the area of the hideout you’d been assigned. Your mission was simple - catch the few robots that made it past the bulk of the team from the central laboratory - but oh man, you felt  _ alive. _

Your blood was practically singing in your veins - it felt like someone had shot you up with a supernova or something, and you were _so_ onboard with this as you continued to clear the area.

In a time that was both a while and the blink of an eye, Steve was barking in the comms again. “Status check.”

“Clear.” Nat.

“Clear here.” Sam grunted. “Okay, _now_ clear.”

“Thanks for flying the friendly skies…” Tony grumbled as Steve sighed. “Clear here, Cap.”

“Here too.” Barton.

“Y/n?”

“Cl-” You heard the soft scratch of a step behind you and spun, firing another mini-magnet EMP on the fly. “Oh, shit.”

“Oh shit? What’s oh shit?” Steve demanded.

You stared at Bucky who was glaring daggers at you as his mechanical arm whined and then shut down. “Uh, clear. We’re clear here. Just a little friendly fire.”

“Buck?”

“I’m fine, Steve.” Bucky barked. “Stark, I’m gonna need a reboot.”

The sound of laughter down the line from everyone else was the best sound you’d ever heard. Yeah, you were definitely riding the adrenaline high.

You shrugged at Bucky as Steve gave the command to regroup. “At least all that training paid off - admit it, you’d be more pissed if you’d been able to sneak up on me.”

“She’s got you pegged,” Nat teased.

“That’s enough chatter, people.” Steve ordered. “Let’s get this done.”

The good-natured ribbing continued the whole flight home - Sam, for one, was never going to let Bucky live it down. Only partially because he was proud of you; he really enjoyed needling Barnes too.

“Now what?” You asked, still jazzed as you strolled back into the residence. No one had sustained serious injuries, so you were all released from medical without more than a quick check. But you were still pretty revved.

“Hot tub.” Nat decided. “You’re gonna feel it as soon as that super-sized rush wears off. Last one there has to grab the snacks.”

The team scattered, including you.

You changed quickly, tossing on the suit that Nat and Maria had talked you into, snagging the cover up and darting back out the door.

You froze in the hallway.

Steve and Bucky were both staring at you, but not in a sexual way. You realized half a second later that the swimsuit did literally nothing to hide your scars - scars you’d been careful to cover up during your training sessions.

“One sec…” You turned and fled into your room to grab something to cover up with, cover up in your hand momentarily forgotten under the uncertainty replacing the adrenaline buzz.

You barely had the oversize t-shirt over your head when you realized they’d followed you. Your head cleared the shirt in time to watch Steve casually kick the door shut with his heel.

Your spacious room suddenly seemed much too small, especially when Bucky reached you, holding you in place with hands that were terrifyingly gentle.

“We’ve been patient.” He said, so calmly that it struck a note of fear in you. Rumlow had always been his most terrifying when he was calm... _ No _ , you reminded yourself, Bucky was  _ nothing  _ like Rumlow. “We’ve accepted that whether or not you remember us, or your life before that prison,  _ you _ are y/n.” His hand - his metal hand - brushed over the scar at your temple, and then he bent forward and brushed it with his lips. “Baby, you need to tell us  _ something _ .”

“I don’t..I don’t want to tell you about it.”

“Why? You don’t trust us?”

You shook your head. “I mean, I shouldn’t. I don’t remember you. But I do trust you. That’s not...that’s not it.”

“Then what is it?” He prompted when your fingers fiddled with the front of his own tac jacket.

You swallowed the rising lump in the back of your throat. “I don’t want you to look at me the way...the way the guards or the inmates or the medics used to. I don’t want you to know that part of me.”

“You survived. How could we be anything but proud of you?” Steve asked.

“Tell me about this one.” Bucky kissed the scar at your temple again, almost reverently.

“It’s from a wall.” You felt his arms wrap around you, drew comfort from the strength in them and knew on a level you couldn’t articulate that they would never hurt or cage you. “I tried to bash my own head in.”

“Why?”

“Don’t…I don’t want to talk about that. Ever.”

“Okay, doll. Okay.” You felt Steve’s fingers brush the scar on the inside of your wrist and looked up into those so so blue eyes and saw nothing but acceptance. “This one?”

“From a shiv I made out of a toothbrush.”

“And your thigh?”

“Gouged it with my fingernails.” You felt them both physically flinch at that one.

“And this one?” Steve had moved to the other side of you, hand ghosting over the one on your lower abdomen through the t-shirt.

Everything in you tightened, so tight you thought something would break. “Surgical procedure. After Rumlow beat the ever living crap out of me.” Your words, clipped, abrupt and you couldn’t bring yourself to say more than that.

“You’re safe.” There was no way you couldn’t believe them both in this moment while they whispered words of comfort and security to you. You felt your body shudder, and knew in your bones that they weren’t lying - before you’d become a prisoner your body had _known_ these two men. So well that even after everything you’d been through, you only felt safe around them.

And the walls in your mind snapped.

Distantly you were aware of Steve and Bucky calling your name, knew your body had gone absolutely limp. But your mind...your mind was reliving everything before the last four years in a nauseating rush of moments, color, feeling. You wanted to scream, laugh, cry - everything you’d ever done, ever were, ever felt. So much. Too much. All coming flooding back in.

You remembered watching a movie with one of your foster moms - one of the good ones - as a kid, laughing as you tossed popcorn up in the air and tried to catch it in your mouths while animated mice sang in the background. You remembered getting accepted into college, remembered watching the battle of New York rage through the city while you and some friends tried to clear the streets in your neighborhood.

You remembered getting recruited. You remembered your first c.o.

You remembered meeting Steve for the first time - slack jawed awe and tripping over your own feet only to gape after him in horror a few minutes later as he hurled himself carelessly from the quinjet - and James…

You snorted, laughing at  _ that _ memory. 

And just like that, you were back in your own body, laughing while Steve and Bucky looked at you with worry bordering on panic, both of them half holding you. It made you break into laughter all over again and they eased you down to the floor.

“I can’t believe…” You managed to wheeze “That I hit you with a glitter grenade the first time we met.”

“You...She remembered.” James’ face was lit up like a Christmas tree and it was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen. “You remember!”

“All of it. Most of it. I think.”

“About us?”

You felt your face flush. “Yeah. All of that too I think.”

And then James was kissing you like you were oxygen and he couldn’t breathe, and you couldn’t say that you minded in the tiniest bit. He was  _ James, _ and he was one of yours, in a way that you both couldn’t believe and couldn’t forget again. 

And then Steve was kissing you, and it was gentler, but no less urgent as his mouth devoured yours. It was like coming home in a way you hadn’t had words for a few hours ago, a goddamn glorious sunrise in your soul that tasted like apple pie.

“Y/F/N fucking Y/L/N.” He whispered, pride and awe in his voice.

“Language.”

And that was how Natasha found you later, three bodies tangled on the floor, laughing hysterically and trading light I-can't-believe-it-kisses.

“It just...It just all came back.” You told Nat as you lounged in the hot tub later that afternoon. “My whole life. The Avengers. James. Steve.”

“You called him James.” Nat’s face was radiating enough happiness to power the state of New York.

“He’s always been James to me.” And he _had_. It was why you’d had such a hard time holding on to a name for him before - your subconscious knew that he wasn’t Sarge, or Buck, or Bucky, or any of the other million aliases and nicknames he'd been dinged with. He was just James to you.

“I’m surprised your brain isn’t leaking out of your ears.” Clint said, but he was smiling as he leaned back on the other side of Nat.

“Chalk one up to the serum.” You shrugged, unworried. You were  _ whole _ again, and you knew that you would always bear the scars - literal and otherwise - of the last few years, but you were a whole person again, and Nat and Maria had been right. You were the same person, just with a few more bruises, and a lifetime of memories.

“So...does that mean you got back  _ all _ your memories?” Nat asked with a suggestive eyebrow wiggle that had you and Clint both snorting.

“Super soldier sex?” You clarified and had the pleasure of watching Sam - walking over from the grill at the exact wrong moment - went the color of wilted cabbage and shook his head.

“Yeah, no, fuck that.” He muttered and walked away. "God fucking dammit."

“Yeeeessss,” Nat answered. "Tell me everything so I know you really remember."

You smiled, knowing full well you’d never shared any of the details with her. “Sorry, Nat. Some things are  _ personal. _ ” You laughed as she splashed water at you and felt two sets of eyes burning against your skin from where Steve and James were supervising Vis at the grill. You turned and gave them both a blinding smile.

You were whole, and you were home.

HYDRA's bomb went off in D.C. fourteen hours later.


	17. Regression to the Mean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deaton: Have you ever heard of the term 'Regression to the mean'?
> 
> Scott: No.
> 
> Deaton: It's a bit of a technical way of saying that things will always even out.
> 
> Scott: Like things will always get better?
> 
> Deaton: More like things can't always be bad.
> 
> Scott: So no matter how bad things get...
> 
> Deaton: Or how good...
> 
> Scott: They always come back to the middle.
> 
> Deaton: Regression to the mean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the quote is from Teen Wolf, which was my Riverdale show before Riverdale, but ooh boy...things always come back to the middle...

_ HYDRA's bomb went off in D.C. fourteen hours later. _

* * *

The bomb in D.C. was just the first - in the next six days, five more bombs went off in different cities, including New York.

The Avengers were called in because in New York at least, Hydra had started a shoot-out with the NYPD in densely populated Manhattan a few minutes after the blast. The entire team was there within the hour, Steve once again stepping into the role of team leader and liaising with the NYPD, directing the team even in the thick of the fighting.

“y/n, we have civilians on…” You nodded as Steve rattled off the nearest cross-streets. “Get them out of the line of fire.”

“I’m on it.”

It was hard work, picking your way through the city blocks, avoiding gunfire from half a damn army of Hydra agents, but you made it to the civilians and gave them a safe escort out of the zone of fire. 

All the while you could hear the battle being pitched over the team comms.

“Steve, the civilians are clear,” You reported. “Where do you need me?”

“Ah...hold that thought…” You heard the distinct metallic ping of the shield and a high pitched cry. “I’ve got...I just got this...two cops pinned in a parking garage three blocks from you.”

“Got it.”

As the Avengers slowly but surely pushed Hydra’s forces back, you made your way to the parking garage’s location, stopping just shy of the corner and looking for the threat. 

It was eerily quiet, and you hoped you weren’t too late as you made for the garage.

“Steve? Where in the garage?”

“Northwest corner. Third floor.”

“Almost there.” You burst out of the door on the third floor, scanning quickly and carefully as you moved through the rows of parked cars. “Uh, Steve, there’s nobody-”

The blast knocked you face first into the back of a minivan and drove the air from your lungs as you hit the ground like a ton of bricks. You had just enough time to realize the blast must have been structural, because you barely had time to duck and curl up to protect your head as parts of the build began to collapse.

“Shit shit shit shit shit shit fuck,” You whispered and heard Steve shouting in your ear under all the noise of falling concrete and rebar and car parts. “Fucking shit fuck.”

"Is that how y/n prays?" Tony quipped in your ear. "Kid? You okay?"

"Y/n?" Steve's voice wasn't as steady. "Y/n? Answer me."

After a moment you realized the entire building wasn’t going to come down and you let out a big exhale of halle-fucking-lujah.

“I’m here.” You coughed, shoving loose debris off your torso. “Bruised, pissed, and never ever setting foot in a carpark again, and here.” You grunted as you pushed half a van off of your legs. Thank goodness for super strength and sadistic Sam the personal trainer. "Give me a sec."

“Okay. We’ve got secondary bomb squad headed your way to check the area. Are you mobile?”

You glanced down at the length of your body and swore heartily as you noticed your leg pinned under a block of concrete. The way it had fallen with the pieces around it wasn’t crushing the limb, but there was no way that was coming free without some serious effort. “Gonna need a couple minutes on that one, Cap. Got a little pinned by some debris here.”

“You need an assist?”

You tried moving the block but you were well and truly stuck, goddamit. The angle was just _wrong_ for you to leverage your strength, and you were worried about really trying to shift it solo, though you kept it out of your voice as you responded. “Yeah, I think so.” You glanced around, taking stock. “The structure seems to be stable enough, and I’m under cover from the upper floors. I’m not out in the open.”

“I’m on my way,” Stark called it. “Give me five- six minutes, top.” He corrected as the sound of gunfire exploded through the comms. “Seven. No more than that. Promise, kiddo. We’ll get you outta there.”

You collapsed back and prepared to wait.

Pinned, like a goddamn insect, you thought. James and Steve would never let you out in the field again…You groaned as you realized Sam would never let you live this down.

You could hear the jokes now...

“Love the new look.” The stairwell door clanged shut behind Rumlow. “I gotta say, you look great, baby.”

Aw fuck. You tapped your comm, sending it wide this time as Rumlow strode over to you like the minefield of debris was nothing. “Guys, Rumlow’s here at the gara-”

Rumlow’s hit caught you full on, dislodging the ear piece and knocking you onto your back as your leg screamed a symphony in agony-C-sharp that had you blinking back black spots in your vision.

“Y/n?” You heard tiny voices from the comm, just far enough away that you couldn’t reach it. You stretched your fingers out anyway…

And watched Rumlow grind it under his heel with a smug smirk.

“You always did look good in a tac suit.” He said it casually, the way someone would talk about a hairstyle or the weather. “I take it that’s one of Stark’s new inventions?”

“You stole my memories.  _ My life _ .” You hissed, watching him step closer to you, kneeling down.

“I gave you new ones, didn’t I?” His shrug was carefree as he pulled out two metallic cuffs you recognized from your days at S.H.I.E.L.D - magnetic, strong  enough to restrain even Cap if they got on. “Now, let’s get these on you so we can talk someplace a little more private, okay? I’ve even got a spot picked out for us.”

In the end, he got the cuffs on you but you made him bleed for it - first with a head-butt directly to that sharp nose, then with nails scoring bloody furrows down his cheek and neck and arms as he held you down, trapping your arms with a massive leg. Even when the cuffs were on and he leaned in close to kiss you, you fought the urge to vomit and bit down. Hard.

He gave you a bloody-mouthed smile as he sat back. “It’s good you’ve still got that fire burning, sweetheart. I missed that spark.” He spat blood on the concrete next to him, touched his nose testingly before popping it back into the joint. “It’s going to make all of this so much more fun.”

He moved the debris trapping your leg, not caring when you whimpered from pain as the rough surface took skin with it, even through the tac suit. 

“Up you go.” He propped you on your feet and the second you tried to put weight on your damaged foot, the whole world swam in front of your eyes. “Just relax, baby.” He murmured in low tones that made your skin crawl as he spun you against one of the upright pillars.

You felt the cool air kiss the back of your neck as he pulled the collar away from your skin, then a sharp sting and the world started to full-on-tilt-a-whirl as your entire body went numb.

It was your worst nightmare, in the flesh.

And then whatever Rumlow injected you with slammed you into unconsciousness before you had time to panic.

“Not to alarm anyone,” Tony said in a voice that immediately had Steve’s instincts screaming. “But y/n’s comm line just went dead.”

“Replay the last thing the comm recorded.” Steve ordered as he bulldozed another Hydra agent.

Your voice in his ear, your breath short as you gasped the words, “ _ Guys, Rumlow’s her- _ ”

Steve slammed a fist into the next attacker hard enough to pulp the guy’s insides even as he was searching for Bucky. “Does anyone have eyes on y/n?”

As the ‘negatives’ rolled in, he found Buck viciously ripping through the last of the holdouts in the block they’d taken to clear.

“Aw shit,” Tony again. “I got her, Cap. Two blocks west of you. Better put some hustle in those muscles.” The genius’ voice was grim. “They’ve got their own quinjet. Fuck.” Tony’s voice turned apologetic. “Rumlow has her over his shoulder. She’s not moving.”

“Keep that fucking jet on the ground, Stark. We’re coming to ya.”  _ Hold on, doll, _ He thought - no, prayed - even as he and Bucky bolted.

“Rodger, Rogers.”

He and Bucky were already running, full out. Steve didn’t have to look at Buck to know the panic he was feeling - it was like a hot acid inside him, fear, wave after wave. Rumlow had you. Rumlow had you and you weren’t fighting.

Gritting his teeth, Steve poured on the speed...

“Motherfucking super soldiers,” Tony groaned as Steve rolled the vehicle off of him. “I’m sorry, Cap. Asshole hit me with a hummer after the first shot.”

Even now, Bucky was staring into the sky where the quinjet had disappeared courtesy of cloaking technology, as if by staring alone he could make you reappear.

Steve mumbled something - he wasn’t quite sure what - and his feet led him to his best friend before he had time to formulate a plan.

“We’re going to get her back,” Bucky told him before he had a chance to open his mouth, absolute faith in his voice. “She has her memories, and training, and we know she’s not dead this time. We’ll get her back.”

Steve wanted to believe it.

But he had the sinking feeling that it wasn’t going to be that easy.


	18. Captivity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumlow has you
> 
> Trigger warnings for angst, non-con, possessive (and crazy) Rumlow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry for the reader but this chapter pretty much wrote itself in the span of an hour...Back down the rabbit hole of darkness we go...

You still weren’t used to the softness of the mattress, not even after all these months. Your entire body felt like it was about to sink right through the damn thing, despite having run through four other mattresses, each progressively less soft. Steve and Sam both swore you’d get used to it eventually, but caught James’ eye and saw that at least one of your closest people got it.

Acknowledging that trying to sleep would get you nowhere, you groaned pitifully and tossed back the covers, swinging your legs around.

Your feet hit the hardwood floor and that woke you up.

Your room at the compound was carpeted.

You blinked at the walls surrounding you - where the fuck were you? - and categorically filed away as much information as you could as your brain kicked it into high gear. 

Higher than modernly fashionable ceilings, old moulding trim. The floor below your feet was wood, but soft with time. The furniture was modern though sparse. The king sized bed, bookshelves you would swear you’d seen in Clint’s IKEA catalogue (Lara wouldn’t let him order it to the house), a couple of armchairs and a small table between them at the window. It could have been anywhere, really, so you rose on shaky legs and strode to the window.

You were in the middle of nowhere, you realized, staring at an open yard that melted away into dense thick trees. No power lines or roads you could see from this vantage point. Didn’t mean they weren’t there, you told yourself. Just that you couldn’t see them from this room.

Based on the sweep of color across the hills surrounding you, you were definitely still in the Northeast at least.

You turned back to the room, but it yielded no new clues, so you turned that inspection on yourself, crossing to the mirror hanging on the back of the door.

You figured, based on the lack of bruising, you’d been asleep for at least ten, maybe twelve hours. Someone had dressed you in an oversize t-shirt and sleep shorts -

Rumlow.

Your brain blasted memories of the garage in bright big technicolor across the inside of your eyelids.

Rumlow had found you.

You breathed, slow and deep through the initial onslaught of feelings, forcing yourself to remain rational. You were alive. You were, presumably, healthy. You had your training, and your memories, and James and Steve would be coming for you this time.

The knowledge steadied you more than the long exhales, so you focused on that, held on to it as you heard soft footsteps ascending nearby stairs and your pulse threatened to skyrocket.

Steps coming closer, heavy, confident tread down the hallway, stopping just outside the door that was currently closed in front of you. Instinctively, you took several steps back, gave yourself space to move.

“I know you’re awake, baby.” Rumlow’s voice, soft, smug, reached your ears. “There’s clean clothes in the closet. Get dressed and come downstairs so we can talk.”

And then you listened to his footsteps as he retraced his route, back down the stairs.

You walked over to the closet, opened it and stared at it. An array of clothes; tshirts, sweaters, jeans, leggings...even a pair of dresses near the back. You couldn’t stop the shudder of dread that rolled through you at the sight. This wasn’t the closet of someone who was passing through, or a rushed provisional cache of clothing. There were variations - chunky sweaters and light throws, different shades - that indicated this was an actual wardrobe.

With the tags still on everything.

“What the fuck... “ You whispered to yourself.

You ended up getting dressed - the idea of facing Rumlow on what was clearly his turf in nothing more than sleepwear just wasn’t going to work for your sense of fortitude - in simple jeans and long sleeved t-shirt. You wondered, as you realized there were no socks, no shoes, what had happened to your beautiful tac suit? Was it here? Could you get your hands on it? Figure out those advanced features Stark had promised and make an escape?

You cracked the door to the room, stepped into the hall.

Well, you were definitely in a house. Older, as the styling elements were the same as your room, but not falling apart.

You eyed the stairs at one end of the hall, then the other doors lining the hallway, and a far window.

You didn’t even have to think about it. 

You raced for the window, ready to pull a Rogers and barrel through.

Instead you hit the glass - which didn’t fucking shatter - and landed with a thud on the floor.

“Sweetheart,” Rumlow called as you staggered, slightly dazed, back to your feet. “The windows are reinforced. Walls too,” He added as an after-thought.

You tried the nearest door handle. Locked. You moved to the next.

It swung open to reveal a room full of books, with a low couch. Nothing you could use as a weapon, unless you wanted to hurl books at Rumlow’s head.

You’d save that thought, you decided, and moved to the last door between you and the room you had just walked out of.

It swung open to a spacious bathroom, given the square footage. Kitted out, you noticed, soap bar in the tray, products for your hair on the counter.

This was really starting to freak you out.

There wasn’t anything else to do - you could go downstairs or hide in ‘your’ room and as much as the part of you that had lived through four plus years of Rumlow already really was rooting for the second option, you wouldn’t be able to stand yourself if you didn’t meet the bastard on your own two feet.

Rumlow smiled at you from across the living room in the kitchen as you finished descending the last few steps. “There she is.”

You just stared as he moved around the kitchen, obviously at home as he finished putting together a plate of...sandwiches?

What the hell kind of drug had he hit you with? 

Had Strange ripped some kind of whole in space-time messing with the stone again?

“We should...talk…” He rubbed the back of his neck with a grin as you stood there stupidly. “Ground rules and all that.”

“Let me leave and I won’t shank you in your sleep,” You suggested sweetly as he grabbed one of the sandwiches and took a bite, gesturing for you to take one.

You didn’t trust the display at all, but your stomach grumbled, and Rumlow smiled knowingly at you.

“They’re not poisoned. You need to eat - your body did a fair amount of healing yesterday, and that drug isn’t exactly easy to burn out of an empty system.”

You would not give him the benefit of being right.

“Sweetheart,” Some of the softness dropped from his voice as he watched you weigh it. “Don’t make me come over there and get you. You need to eat.” Those dark eyes promised you wouldn’t like it if he had to move you.

In the interest of preserving energy and getting more info, you crossed the space and sat at the counter. When he raised an eyebrow, you snatched one sandwich off the plate and bit in.

“No beatdown this time?” You asked in between chews. 

This smile was all razor edges and sharp teeth and you had to look away before your stomach revolted. “I figured you’d do better with more of an orientation day. I can always beat you later.”

You shuddered at the casualness of his tone. This. This was what you’d been frightened of, being  _ reduced _ in the face of whatever the hell was wrong with Brock Rumlow. “You…” It took you a moment to find your voice. “Where are we?”

“Somewhere safe. Out of the way. Off the map.” He gestured to take in the house. “There isn’t a soul around for miles, and thanks to some stolen S.H.I.E.L.D. tech, not even Stark’s A.I.’s can find this place. I’ve been planning to bring you here for a while, once I broke you at the prison. But plans change.”

“Why am I here? What the hell do you want from me?”

Rumlow’s face twisted in a mask of rage and he slammed his hand down on the counter, cracking it. “You’re mine,” He snarled. “I knew it the moment I laid eyes on you. But Rogers and Barnes were in the way. Then and now.” The anger dropped away as quickly as it had come and he met your gaze evenly. “We’ll have all the time we need now.”

He was insane.

“You said something...something about ground rules?” Your body might be hungry but there was no way you could eat, staring into those eyes of the abyss.

He smiled, broadly now. “Yeah. But first, a tour, I think.” He walked around the counter, took your hand and pulled.

You went, unresisting. Buy time, you told yourself. You have to buy time for Steve and James to find you. That’s all - Buy. Time.

You let him lead you towards the sliding glass doors that emptied onto a deck.

“The whole house is ringed with one of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s containment domes, so don’t go getting any ideas about running off - it’s made of particles - I don’t really get the how of it,” He admitted “But it’s...effective. Look,” He jerked his chin towards the edge of the cleared yard where a deer was about to step forward onto the lawn.

You watched in horror as it disintegrated the moment it moved out of the treeline.

Rumlow laughed. “It’s biometrically coded. Only I get to come and go, baby.” He tugged your hand again. “Other than this, and my office upstairs, you can go anywhere you want inside the dome and the house.”

You were in a prison.

A prison that had a lot more space than the first one you’d been in, but a prison nonetheless.

You saw the deer disintegrate again in your mind and felt a violent shudder rip through you.

You couldn’t do this.

You couldn’t.

Not again.

“Hey,” Rumlow clasped both sides of your face gently, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Breathe. Breathe with me baby. It’ll pass. In...out…”

You did as instructed until you stopped feeling like the world was going to vanish between one blink and next.

“Good girl.” Rumlow pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “It’s a lot. I know. It’ll take time, but I think you’ll adapt to this place.”

“They’ll find me.” 

You hadn’t realized you said it out loud until you felt Rumlow’s renewed grip on your hand clench, tightly.

“If they do,” He promised. “I’ll kill them.” Slowly, so slowly, he loosened his grip on your hand. “I guess that brings us to the ground rules. Rule number one,” He held up a finger. “I don’t ever want to hear  _ their _ names in this house. Never, y/n.” He waited for your nod. “Rule number two, you don’t try to escape. I know you’ll have trouble with that one, so I’ll give you a grace period for the next two weeks. That's how sure I am that you can't get out. Rule number three, you don’t mistreat yourself like you did back at the prison - no hunger strikes, no trying to take your own life.”

But it was fine if  _ he _ mistreated you?

He must’ve caught a glimpse of your mind whirring away, because he moved to the door that clearly led to the basement, vanishing beneath the stairs you’d descended not too long ago. “C’mon. There’s one more thing I gotta show you.”

Oh, this was not going to be pleasant.

He let you descend first, flicking the lights on from the top of the stairs.

When you reached the basement, you stopped, frozen.

It was a genuine interrogation room, complete with jail like cells in the far corner and opposite them…

You wouldn’t have known what the massive device was a few months ago. But you had all of your memories now and you knew what you were looking at. The thought of James strapped into a chair in that framework while Hydra tried to erase everything that made him him…

“What is this?”

You hadn’t realized Rumow had descended until his arms wrapped around from behind.

“This is where you’ll spend some time if you break the rules.” His gaze followed yours and you felt the edge of his smile against the side of your face as he dropped his chin on your shoulder. “Ah, good times.”

The threat was abundantly clear - push him too far and he would wipe your memories.

Again.

“How many times did you erase my memories at the prison?” Your lips were dry, so dry, but you had to know as he led you back up the stairs to the living room, shutting the door to that room of horrors behind him. “How many?”

“It took a couple attempts to stick the landing,” He admitted. “You’ve always been strong-willed. It didn’t take til we administered the serum afterwards though.”

“I’d...I think I need to...just...sit. And process. All this.” Your legs weren’t shaking, but you felt like they were.

Rumlow nodded, as if that made any sense at all. “You go on up and rest, sweetheart. I may have to leave, but there’s plenty of food. You’ll be okay for a week or so.”

You nodded, but your brain had already checked out of the conversation.

You didn't remember climbing the stairs, didn’t remember folding yourself into one of the chairs.

You remembered sitting, tears rolling down your face, until you fell asleep there.


	19. Unbearable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team searches for leads while you try to hold on, and then your boys do something incredibly foolish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so so sorry, reader...so sorry
> 
> TBH, not pleased with this chapter overall, but part of my project with this story was to actually complete a work, so onwards we (and the plot) must go.

“It’s been eight. Weeks.” Nat watched Barnes’ shoulder bunch as he pressed his palms against his eyes and rubbed hard. “We’ve looked into everything. Everything Rumlow, everything Hydra. Nothing. Not even a peep.”

“We know he’s out there running around.” Steve wasn’t in any better shape, Nat knew. “Because he wants us to know he’s out there, working for Hydra. Motherfucker is practically giving us a big fat middle finger everytime his head pops up and he knows it.”

“I’m going to make a whack-a-mole with Rumlow heads.” Tony announced.

Nat could use that right about now.

Eight weeks. Fifty-six days since Rumlow had taken you, and for all intents and purposes, vanished. Eight long, desperate weeks of trying to find needles and needles in a stack of needles in a goddamn field of needles.

They were spinning their wheels, Nat knew, but the alternative was to...what? Give up on you? So here they were, her, the soldiers, and Stark crammed into your analyst’s office, pouring over maps and charts and reports until their eyes bled trying to get new information from old. Clint and Sam were handling a call that had come in, and Banner was holed up in the lab, trying to analyze the bomb fragments from the Hydra bombs (again) in the hopes that it would give them  _ something _ .

“He had to have had some place prepared.” She said it as much for her benefit as for the rooms’, trying to walk it through, again. “That takes time. Money. That means a paper trail. Somewhere..Somewhere…”

“Sit down before you fall down, Romanov,” Barnes suggested.

“Fuck you, Barnes,” She snapped but there was no heat behind it as she sank onto one of the chairs tucked into the corner and dislodged the stack of files on the neighboring chair. “Aw, motherfu-” Her eyes landed on an inventory report dated the year the Triskelion fell and she snatched it.

“Nat?”

“Shut up.” She read it three times through, but your notes were clear.She scrambled through the mess of files covering the floor. “Help me. Look for reports of theft, stolen or missing equipment.”

“I thought y/n wasn’t working on any active cases?” Stark asked, even as the three men joined her.

Nat shook her head. “Cold cases, dead lead investigations, internal bureaucratic bullshit. Said it helped her relax when we were on missions. Ah hah! Another one!”

Three hours later, they had nearly four dozen reports spread across the command center conference room and hope was a strengthening, burning light on every face gathered around the table.

“Y/n didn’t even know it, but she was hunting Rumlow.” Nat informed them, having just put the last pieces together. “She didn’t even know it was Rumlow she was tracking, but in the eighteen months before the Triskelion fell, there was a severe uptick in misappropriated S.H.I.E.L.D. tech. Y/n had it narrowed down to someone high ranking within the Strike Teams.”

“What kind of tech? Anything trackable?” Sam demanded.

Tony coughed. “Yes and no. Some of it, we can’t track. Some of it we can, but only in the immediate vicinity or if the tech is active. Some of it...honestly, it’ll take Bruce and I a couple of days to go through it all and figure out if it can or can’t be, even with Vis and F.R.I.D.A.Y. helping out.”

“It’s more than we had this morning.” Barton’s smile was bright and bitter. “What do you need, Nat?”

“You and I are headed to Budapest.” Her heart swelled as her second best friend didn’t hesitate to nod. “We’ll work our old contacts - see if we can’t cross some of these things off the list. Some of this is pretty pedestrian stuff - by S.H.I.E.L.D. standards. I don’t see Rumlow hanging on to it, but he could have sold it to finance whatever hidey hole he has y/n in.”

“Follow the money,” Sam rubbed his hands together. “I can help with that, pull Maria in too. We can run it down from the law and order side.”

“We’re going to do this,” Nat met Bucky’s eyes. “We’re going to bring y/n home.”

You tried not to shiver in the bottom of the shower as the hot water finally ran out. You didn’t have the energy yet to stand up and turn the spray off, but the icy pinpricks drove you to your feet.

You staggered to the edge of the bed, barely dry, and collapsed.

Rumlow would come and visit every few days. Sometimes for a couple hours, sometimes for a night, and once for three straight days.

He’d left again, a little over an hour ago, and you had spent most of the time since then trying to scrub your skin raw to rid yourself of the feel of him, of his twisted psychopathy and brutal strength.

Keeping track of how long you’d been here was proving difficult. There were no clocks, no electronics, aside from the one on the stovetop, and all it did was tell the time. And sometimes you’d sleep for a day or more if Rumlow’s visit had been particularly brutal.

You’d broken the rules once since you’d been here.

Rumlow hadn’t erased your memory, but he had worked you over for hours in the basement. Until your nerves and skin and vocal cords were raw and screaming. Until you broke, begged him to stop, please and you’d never break the rules again, just please,  _ stop _ .

Even with your super healing factor, it had taken almost a week for your body to work right after that.

You hadn’t stepped a foot out of line since, even as guilt twisted your insides into knots.

You knew you were moving into months in this hell now, and it made it harder to keep getting up in the mornings. The only thing that did it was the thought of your super soldiers, your friends, out there looking for you. And any time you felt yourself starting to slide closer and closer to the edge - driven there by alternating bouts of pain and boredom and guilt that you hadn’t yet found a way to escape - you heard Nat’s voice in your head.

_ Stay. Alive _ .

“Where the hell are you guys?” You whispered, clutching your pillow tightly to your chest.  _ Where the hell are you? _

Another month, Nat thought, grimacing as she glanced at the calendar. 

At least they had leads. A narrowing field of leads, she corrected, stepping back to the take in the full scope of the board that dominated the command conference room now.

“We know Rumlow used the sales of weapons to generate cash.” Clint rubbed the top of his head tiredly. “We’ve tracked down nearly all of the buyers now. Most of them don’t know anything that’ll help us.”

“Homeland Security ought to send us a gift basket,” Sam groaned. “We’re practically doing their jobs for them at this point.”

“Mirkov,” Clint nodded at one of the surveillance photos tacked to the board. “That’s where my money is at. That man does not get into bed with someone like Rumlow without knowing  _ something  _ about his weaknesses, his resources.”

“Where are we on that one?” Nat asked.

Clint shrugged. “Maria’s handling it. Said she’d let us know as soon as she had something.”

“I’ve got a contact at the Pentagon tracking down Booker,” Sam tapped the photo of another arms dealer Rumlow had sold tech to. “He’ll hit me back in a couple hours.”

“Someone has to know something.” Nat said, more to remind herself than anything else, and ran a hand through her hair. She stopped, sniffed, and sighed. “I’m going to go grab a shower. And some food.”

Clint and Sam both nodded, eyes already back on the files that sprawled across the table top.

The shower shook the worst of the exhaustion from her. Now for food, Nat decided, stepping into the kitchen and pulling her foot back into the hallway as low voices reached her ears.

“It’s killing me, Buck.” Steve’s quiet sob hit Nat straight in the heart. “Months. We’ve been looking for months. And he has her, and he’s hurting her, and what if he wipes her memories again?” The sounds became more muffled, and Nat poked her head around the corner to see Bucky standing, holding a seated Steve’s head to his chest as that giant frame shook with sobs.

“Then we’ll find her and we’ll help her remember again.” Bucky’s voice was just shy of reassuring, and Nat knew that the Winter Soldier’s seemingly endless faith was wearing thin. “And when we do, I’m going to rip Rumlow’s heart out of his chest.” He paused and Nat had to blink rapidly as she watched him press a tender kiss to the top of Steve’s head.

All three of their comm devices went off, breaking the intimate moment with their shrill sounds. Nat stepped into the kitchen now, knowing there was no way to hide she’d been standing there.

“Maria got something.” Clint’s voice was grim. “Mirkov or whatever his name is has a meet with Rumlow tomorrow morning near the border. He gave up the location, Rumlow’s M.O. for the trade, and said last time he talked to Rumlow he mentioned getting back to the missus before she went stir crazy.”

Nat couldn’t breathe.

Neither could Steve or Bucky.

“Guys?” Concern filled Clint’s voice. “Guys, you there?”

“We’re on our way,” Steve replied. 

And suddenly, meeting two sets of very different, very blue eyes, Nat could breathe again.

They were going to find you.

You were dreaming.

You knew you were dreaming because James’ hand was resting comfortably on your hip while he nuzzled the back of your neck affectionately.

But it was a nice dream, so you let it pull you back to the soft escape from reality, softening against the impression of his warm body and letting out trembling little noises as the nuzzles turned to nips with small, tasting kisses.

His chuckle rumbled along your skin like thunder as your heartbeat increased and that hand started drawing slow, sensual circles over the sensitive skin where your hip dipped to meet your lower abdomen. The caress nearly melted you.

“James,” You sighed, half turning as you blinked sleepily. “Missed you, handsome.”

That hand froze, tightened painfully on your hip and the dream shattered alongside your heart as you blinked at Rumlow’s face, which flashed - was that  _ pain? - _ for a split second before vanishing behind a mask of indifference that you knew was the precursor to agony.

“You’re never going to forget those fuckers, are you?” His hand moved to your hair, fingers tangling there as he jerked your head back, exposing your vulnerable throat. “They’re always going to be in there. Always taking up parts of you that should be  _ mine _ .”

You shuddered at the word and he rolled you onto your back, pinned beneath the bulk of his body as your hands were pressed over your head. You felt him fumble with his belt and then felt the tight leather squeezing your wrists as he tied them to the frame.

Then his hands were at your face, your neck, skimming downwards and shedding your clothes as he went until you were completely exposed.

“Mine,” He growled as he marked your body using lips and teeth and hands. “Mine, only mine.”

After he spent himself in your body, he cleaned you up with a gentleness that you had never seen from him before.

“I’ll find a way to take you from them,” He promised, wiping the tear tracks from your face. “If I have to burn the whole fucking world to the ground…”

“Goddamn it Rogers,” Nat’s voice snarled in his ear. “Get your star-spangled ass back over here and bring Barnes with you. This was not the plan.”

“It wasn’t  _ your _ plan,” Steve pointed out, taking cover as more of Rumlow’s men continued to fire.

“What are you thinking, Cap?” Tony shouted. “This is not a good strategy.”

“What Stark said,” Even Clint chimed in “Your girl is going to rip you a new one. This is a bad plan even by your standards, Rogers.”

Steve shot Bucky a glance and saw only agreement in his eyes. “We’re doing it. We’ll bring her home.”

He had time to hear Nat’s frustrated scream of denial and then they were moving forward, using the shield and Bucky’s arm to deflect most of the fire as they stretched away from the rest of the group.

Too far.

Far enough for Rumlow’s men to surround them.

Far enough to test his theory that Rumlow would want them alive and hurting and a chance to gloat over having given the order to kill them on sight.

Clint was right - you would've torn him a new asshole for it - but you weren't here to yell at him or stop him and Buck.

Bucky grunted as he took a shot to one leg, then the other, dropping to his knees as Steve closed in to protect him, and then the battle became a blur of feet and fists as they swarmed him.

The last thing he saw before a blow to the back of the head sent him tumbling into darkness was the image of you on the back of his eyelids.


	20. Dark Side of the Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reunion, a secret revealed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I just need to blanket state: I"M SO SORRY
> 
> Also, no new chapters on this work til the weekend - I'm down to the last few days at work and need to focus on buying private healthcare and closing down my position, and while this is *still* my favorite WIP, these chapters are...uh, we'll say draining...to write
> 
> As always, thank you for the kudos and comments!

“Sweetheart, _ ,”  _ Rumlow sang as he climbed the stairs to your room. “I have a surprise for you.”

_ So do I _ , you thought, fingers brushing the mirror shard you’d hidden up the inside of the long sleeved shirt. You’d broken the corner of the mirror that morning, knowing that after a few days away, Rumlow would be back soon.

You’d never let him touch you again, you’d decided after that last, terrible morning, sending an apology to Steve and James and your friends. You’d either kill him or force him to kill you before you let him touch you again.

“ _ Sweetheart,  _ don’t make me chase you _.  _ Or do,” He muttered, low enough that he probably didn’t expect you to hear him. “You know I like the chase.”

You debated for a moment, then gripped the bedroom door knob and twisted, stepping out into the hall. You’d have more room to maneuver in the living room. “What?”

He embraced you, nuzzling into your neck affectionately and you had to shut your eyes tightly, slow your breath, and use all your willpower not to stab him right then and there. “I brought you a little something from my last trip. Come see.” 

He was dressed in tac gear, so you knew he had to have rushed back from wherever it had been. Unfortunately, he seemed to be perfectly fine in addition to high spirits. Not a freaking scratch on him.

He took your hand and led you down the stairs, through the kitchen, to the basement. He gave your hand a tug and smile when you paused at the top. “I promise, you’re not in any trouble.”

Right. Like you could trust his quicksilver, Janus-style personality. At. All.

His mood was explained the minute you could see what was in the basement.

Steve and James sat in the far cell.

Steve was slumped, wrists bound by the same kind of cuffs Rumlow had used on you, and you’d never seen him look worse. His gaze was unfocused, bright blue eyes cloudy. Head trauma, you guessed, but you’d have to get a closer look to be sure. What...what the hell had Rumlow hit him with to cause that much slow-healing damage?

James’ metal arm hung limply by his side, inanimate, and you noticed a variation of one of Stark’s EMPs drilled into the metal. He seemed to be faring the better of your two soldiers, but you wanted to cry when his gaze locked on yours, and then saw your hand entwined in Rumlow’s. A small sob escaped before you could stop it, and Rumlow pulled you down the last few steps, circling his arms around you, caging you while he spoke into the shell of your ear.

“Now, I do believe you said Cap and the Sarge would come for you. But I figured, since you were missing them so much, why wait? Set up a decoy meet and everything just to draw them out.” He kissed your cheek and you flinched. “Ta da.”

The glass shard was a weight against your skin and you forced yourself to relax, relax and wait for the right moment...You would only get one shot at this, and if Steve and James were out of the running, you had to get this perfect...

All of your patience, all of your calm, went out the window as Steve lifted his head and those eyes focused on you and you knew what he saw - Rumlow touching you, practically wrapped around you, and you allowing it. The hurt and confusion you saw on his face undid it all.

“Why wait?” You parroted, twisting in Rumlow’s arms, sliding the mirror shard out of the sleeve and stabbing towards his neck with a speed that would have made Nat whistle with pride.

Rumlow had to have the devil’s own luck, because he somehow managed to shove the shard aside in the knick of time so that you only scored a shallow flesh wound across his neck and hand. He swore, caught your wrist and snapped it back so hard something audibly cracked, and you saw his face twist into a mask of rage you hadn’t seen in years before he drew back one fist and punched you once, twice in the side of the head.

You were unconscious before the third blow.

“I never could understand...” Rumlow was monologuing as you came back to consciousness, and you let the meaningless drivel roll in one ear and right out the other as you tried to bring yourself back to alertness.

Cage. You were in a cage next to the boys. Hands cuffed, like Steve.

Injuries. You needed to assess your injuries, you prompted yourself as panic fought to set in.

Based on the full body aches, Rumlow hadn’t stopped when you’d lost consciousness. But he hadn’t gone too far - nothing was broken. No cracked ribs. Good, you thought, that was good. Or very bad, because it meant he wanted to take his time making it hurt more later. You shut down that line of thinking the second it tried to creep in.

Assessment complete, you started to let Rumlow’s voice filter back in focusing on the words and the warm surge of hatred they provoked in your belly.

He was talking to Steve, who’s vision looked a lot clearer and more focused now. Talking about how...oh no…

The blood drained out of your face as you realized what Rumlow was winding up to say. You’d heard those words before - only one time before. No no no no no, this wasn’t happening.

You hadn’t had a chance to tell them yet…

“You super serum soldiers were such hot shit. But when it counted you couldn’t protect your team, your woman. Your kid.” Rumlow laughed. “You failed on all counts, Cap.”

“I’ve never had kids, Rumlow.” Steve’s voice was slurred around the edges. Or maybe it was your hearing that was compromised?

“That’s not entirely accurate, is it?” Rumlow tapped the handle of his knife against the cell bars in time with the words, then paused as he read the truth on Steve’s face. His smirk grew wide. “I’ll be damned.” He turned to see you now, including you in this painful raw moment. “You didn’t tell them.” He laughed. “My god, you are one cold, heartless bitch. I knew you had it in you, but goddamn, woman...”

“Don’t.” You saw in his face that it was pointless to try and beg and plead, but you couldn’t have stopped yourself. You would have given  _ anything _ to keep this last, most painful secret hidden just a little bit longer. No, you would have given anything to not have  _ Rumlow _ been the one to expose it. “Please. Brock, please.”

The use of his first name softened him for a second.

It was the first time you’d used it.

“What is he talking about, y/n?” Steve asked and you watched that softness fade from Rumlow.

James said nothing, and as you met his eyes you saw that he already knew - or had guessed near enough. And you saw no condemnation in his gaze. Just a twin rage to match the grief inside you, a living breathing kind of rage that threatened to burn the world down.

“I’m talking about,” Rumlow taunted Steve like the bully he was. “How the first time I found your girl in that prison, she was already almost done with her first trimester.”

You would kill him; you knew it, even as your body vibrated with a cold sort of anger that nearly whitewashed your vision. You would kill him for putting that look on Steve’s face, that helpless realization that  _ that  _ was what you’d been hiding. 

“I’m talking about how I knew if I wanted to keep her for my own -” Rumlow was practically a goddamn giddy school boy as he imploded your world. “and boy did I - I needed to take care of that.” Rumlow leaned in close but with super hearing everyone in the room could hear the soft whisper. “So I beat her until she lost it.”

Now you saw the puzzle pieces fit together on Steve’s face, and he looked at you, with so much and also nothing showing itself across that familiar face that, right now, belonged to a total stranger.

Rumlow laughed again. “I can’t believe she didn’t tell you.”

“Steve…” You tried, but he looked away from you deliberately, looked at Rumlow with murder in his eyes.

“I’m going to kill you.” He promised.

“You keep trying, Cap.” Rumlow acknowledged. “But it doesn’t seem to stick, does it? And that was before all four of us had that super serum. I like my odds.”

James was watching you, not Rumlow, but you couldn’t read his face now either. Whatever he was feeling, he’d locked it down. His shoulders were a different story - tension, wire tight and ready to snap.

“Now me and y/n here are going to go upstairs in a little bit and have a very serious conversation about her behavior. And if she happens to do something I don’t like,” He held up a hand to show a wristband. “Then I’m going to have to take it out on you boys. Like so.” He tapped the band once.

You could only watch in horror as electricity shocked Steve and James. Over and over and over, until you were sure they’d spasm hard enough to break something.

“Stop! Stop, you’ve made your point!” You cried.

“Good. And just so there’s no miscommunication,” He stopped the electricity and looked at Steve, then James as they glared between panting breaths, trying to recover. “If either of you tries to make a play for escape, I’ll take it out on y/n. Method’ll be a little different, and a lot messier, but it’ll hurt just as much. Capisce?”

Steve nodded, and a moment later so did James.

Rumlow approached you, stepping inside your cell and crouching down til he was even with you. He cupped your chin in his palm, forcing you to look up at him. He smiled at what he saw there. “I knew you had it in you, baby _.  _ I’ll give you an hour with them before we have that conversation.”

And then he strolled back up the stairs, leaving the door to your cell open wide.

You couldn’t look at them, either of them, so you fixed your gaze on the floor.

“Y/n.” Steve called. “y/n...why didn’t you tell us?”

“You didn’t know before.” Oh god, this was going to break your heart all over again. This was a memory you hadn’t ever wanted to have back. “ _ I _ didn’t know, not until the bloodwork came back after I was treated for..in the prison.  _ He _ lost it then. And after...after it was too painful, and I never wanted you to live with that kind of pain. Either of you.”

“Tell us the rest of it.” James said it softly, but it wasn’t a question, and it wasn’t a request. The Winter Soldier wanted all of the facts, all the information.

You shoved your hair out of your face and looked at them and tried not to read into what you saw on their faces. “It was...early days...at the prison. I still thought...I didn’t know you thought I was dead. I thought you’d come for me. That it was a matter of hanging in there.” You saw Steve flinch at your words. “And then one missed period turned into two. And between the second missed period and the third, Rumlow happened.”

James swore and slammed his fist against the cage wall.

You swallowed the ball in your throat and pushed forward. “It was the thing that pushed him over the edge. He beat me, so badly they weren’t sure I’d recover, and I lost...I lost it.” Your face was wet and you wiped it off the best you could. “After that, I got serious about taking myself out of the equation. They started wiping my memory as soon as they determined I was strong enough to survive the process.” You gave a half sob. “I still don’t even know if it was a girl or a boy.”

“You should have told us.”

“I know.” You did.

“We’re going to kill him.” James said.

“Oh yeah.” There was a finality in Steve’s voice you had never heard before. “We definitely are.”

“Please tell me you didn’t get caught without some kind of plan.” You stared at them as Steve’s gaze skittered away from your own. “James?” When he wouldn’t meet your gaze, you shook your head. “What did you  _ do _ ?”

“We figured Rumlow would want to gloat.”

“So you…” You had a revelation of your own, knowing how Steve’s mind worked. “You got yourselves captured, assumed Rumlow would bring you to his base, and then bust out from there.” You groaned. “Please tell me I’m wrong.”

Steve shrugged. “They didn’t find the trackers Tony implanted.”

The trackers also wouldn't work under the dome.

You shot James a glare. “You’re supposed to  _ keep _ him from doing the dumb thing, not  _ help _ him. What if Rumlow had just killed you both? Did you think about that? Do you know what that would do to me to lose you like that?”

“I am not going to apologize for trying everything in my power to find you.” Square jaw set hard, Steve turned the full weight of his gaze on you finally and you were relieved that his eyes were completely clear now, if emotional. “It took us months to find a lead, y/n. Months.”

“You goddamn idiots.”

“We’re  _ your _ goddamn idiots.” James reached between the bars, gave one of your hands a squeeze that had you blinking back tears.

“Guess so,” You agreed.

Looked like you were going to have to find a way to get the three of you out of this mess.

At least you weren’t alone anymore.


	21. Darkness Before Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get darker...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALL THE WARNINGS FOR NON-CON (I'm so so sorry, I felt seriously icky writing this chapter) and yeah, general angst and unhappiness
> 
> Also everyone who said they wanted Rumlow dead? Yeah...bout that...please don't hate me too hard for this...

“Don’t.” You managed to cough the word out from the chair you were strapped into as Rumlow’s fingers danced over the various instruments he kept on hand for torturing you.

It had been three days.

Three days since you’d last seen your boys. Since you'd spent a solid ten minutes berating the giant idiots for their stupid, stupid decision.

You were working on a plan, but you needed Rumlow to leave so you could talk to them again.

Too bad Rumlow was having so much fun here at ‘home’.

Rumlow hit you again. “You know how much I like it when you beg, y/n.”

You spat blood on the floor, saw James’ mechanical fist clench and shook your head. “D-Don’t.” You knew Rumlow - knew he hated the Captain and Winter Soldier almost as much as he wanted you. He would have beaten you anyway, but the fact that he could do so in front of two men he absolutely despised was giving him a power trip. The only thing that would make him happier? An excuse to turn it around on your boys and worsen whatever it was he had planned for you. That was just how his fucked up mind worked.

This wasn’t about hurting you. This was about hurting  _ them _ .

But the boys didn’t know that - they had no way of knowing that, as far as these sessions went, this one barely rated. Hell, it was practically gentle in comparison to one of his finer rages.

It only took a few more blows before Steve couldn’t take it anymore and strained against the cell bars. “Rumlow! You son of a bitch!”

Rumlow grinned down at you and you knew that was what he’d been waiting for - a reaction. “Language, Cap.”

“You wanna try beating up on someone your own size for a change?” Steve challenged.

You winced.  _ No, Steve _ , you wanted to say, but that last hit had your head ringing like a clusterfuck of church bells.

“Maybe after I’m done with your girl, Cap.”

He yanked you free of the straps, grabbed you by the hair, pulling you along with him. “Now that we’ve got their attention, let’s give ‘em a real show, huh sweetheart?”

Nausea swamped you as realization came and he shoved you towards the desk at the wall. You barely had time to brace your hands behind you before he was on you and you were  _ trying _ , oh god, scratching, striking. He just laughed, grabbed your wrists in one hand and shoved his tongue down your throat.

You could distantly hear Steve and James shouting now, but the world was becoming fuzzier. Not like you were about to pass out, just like you had back in the prison when some part of you would drift away until Rumlow was done doing...that…

Rumlow’s other hand tightened on your jaw painfully, squeezing. “Oh, no you don’t doll. You’re going to stay right here with me this time.” He shook you until your eyes focused again, then smiled. “That’s it.” His hand fell away from your face and went to your pants.

You lost it.

You bucked, thrashed - this wasn’t an agent trying to break free, this was the kind of desperate attempt to escape that an animal would make to avoid pain.

And he just laughed, delighted. He slapped aside your hands, pressed his body between your thighs, using his weight and height to advantage to press you back on the desk, arms stretched above. You heard a click and realized when he drew both hands along your body that he’d cuffed your arms to the desk.

“So fucking sexy when you lose it like that, babe.” His hands skimmed your stomach, shoved your shirt up so he could fondle the scar on your lower abdomen. 

You knew what came next. Knew it, knew you couldn’t escape it. Couldn’t avoid it. Could only endure it, and hope it was over quickly.

But they had an audience, and Rumlow was enjoying himself, stripping your lower body with a pornographic slowness. He just laughed again when you tried to squeeze your legs shut, forcing them open again.

So you let your mind drift, even as you turned your face away as Rumlow...well, did what he wanted.

James’ eyes were the first thing you saw when you came back. There was a bleakness there you hadn’t seen since he'd first started clawing himself back from the Winter Soldier, and you realized he was crying, silently.

Rumlow pressed a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh, chuckling as you flinched. “Just as good as the first time, sweetheart.” The press of his body against yours as he leaned over you to unclip the cuffs from the desk made you want to die, but not nearly so much as seeing the absolute helplessness on Steve’s face as Rumlow buried his head in your hair and pressed kisses along your neck in blatant satisfaction. “Goddamn.”

Fatigue swamped you as he had you stand and step out of the remains of your pants. At least standing the shirt was long enough to cover...everything. Numbness, emotional and physical, seeped into your bones as Rumlow tossed an arm over your shoulder.

“Don’t worry, boys,” He turned that horrible smile on the cell. “I’ll clean her up too.”

He was in one of his rare moods - touch gentle as he washed you from head to toe. If you hadn’t known him for a sociopath, you would have almost called it considerate, a mood you’d never seen from him before.

“God, woman,” He pressed lips to your shoulder afterwards, letting the hot water run over you both.

You shivered and he nipped at your skin with his teeth, a dark chuckle rumbling up through his chest.

“Let’s get you dressed. That took a lot out of you, didn’t it?”

You were too exhausted to do anything but let him dress you in clean leggings and one of his shirts before he led you back downstairs and shut you in your very own cell before making his way back upstairs, whistling. "I'll leave you three to catch up for a little."

“Y/n?”

You blinked, teetering on the edge of some feeling that you couldn’t name, couldn’t see your way around.

“Y/n, baby…”

You broke like a dam, collapsing to the floor and sobbing. From the stairs you heard a distant, pleased laugh, and then the door shut.

You curled your arms around your legs and let it all out. And then you cried yourself to sleep.

When you woke, it was to the sound of heavy bootsteps - which had you bolting upright waaay too quickly for someone who had passed out on the floor - as Rumlow approached your cell. He crouched down to put himself on eye level with you as he unlocked the door. 

“I have to go away on a mission, babe. But don’t worry, the whole place is wired so I can keep an eye on you.” He was still smiling. “Miss you already.”

You shut your eyes again and let the fatigue take you under.

This time when you woke it was because your stomach was growling.

You didn’t want to open your eyes. If you just laid here and let the world slip away the rest of the way…

“Baby, please…”

You opened your eyes.

Steve and James were both watching you, and you saw a shudder of relief run through Steve as you met his eyes.

“Baby, you have to eat something. You need to take care of yourself.” James told you.

He was right, but the thought of climbing the stairs and raiding the kitchen was just...beyond you.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed there like that. The only thing you were aware of were James and Steve’s voices, coaxing, ordering, and encouraging by turns, but it was as if you were hearing them through a fog or a tunnel, and there wasn’t anything you could do - or wanted to do - to make that fog thin.

“He’s watching.” You said finally, leaning against the back wall of the cell. You didn’t have the energy to sit up without the wall. “We should probably assume he's got at least this room and most of the upstairs -" You couldn't make yourself say 'bedroom', even though you were absolutely certain there were cameras there "too."

“Are you…I mean, you’re…”

You huffed mirthlessly. “I’m not...I’m not okay. But he’s done worse.”

Both men blanched like you’d struck them. 

“Is that how it was for you the whole time?” Steve finally asked.

You couldn’t look at him then, shaking your head. “No. That was...that was just...shit. You can’t react when he does it again.” You looked each of them in the eyes now, willing them to understand. “He’ll use it as an excuse to do worse.”

“When.”

“When.” You confirmed. “When.” Your throat tightened. “It’s about power. He won’t break the rules he sets, but he will push and push and push til you do. He’s good at it, he knows both of you, and he's relentless. And then he’ll do whatever he wants. That’s the cycle.”

“How are you...you’re so calm about this.”

“Yeah, well, being un-calm gets any of us exactly nowhere.” You managed to shrug with a nonchalance that probably looked as fake as it felt. “Unless one of you can get us out of here before he gets back, I...it’s easier to just...to just…”

“No.” Steve’s voice was unyielding. “No, we don’t just accept this.”

“Steve,” James’ arm rested on Steve’s shoulder. “Steve..”

“Don’t ask me to be okay with this.”

“No one is asking that.” James’ eyes betrayed the calm in his voice. “No one is saying any of this is okay.”

Rumlow was probably watching this and enjoying himself.

The thought brought with it a welcome spark of something other than numbness.

“None of it is okay,” You echoed James, and then leveled your gaze at Steve. “But right now we don’t have the luxury of pretending that he isn’t going to come back here and do the same - or worse - again.  _ I _ don’t have that luxury, Steve.”

“How are we supposed to sit here and do nothing?” James asked you. “If he’s going to hurt you anyway, how do we sit here and watch that?”

They still weren’t getting it.

“The more you react, the more he will pry into it. He’s like a...predator that way. He’ll hone in on a weakness, and then he’ll hammer away at it.”

“To what end?”

“I don’t know.” And that was the truth. “I spent seven years with that man on the teams, and another four in prison, and I have no idea what his actual endgame is.” You had to move, had to burn off the energy that was beginning to fill you. You pushed to your feet and began to pace, thinking. “What do we know about him, what he wants?”

“Power. He wants it. Not just to be in charge, but to have power over people he hates and resents.”

“He has all three of us. Will that satisfy him?”

“No.” You shook your head. “No, not for long. And he’ll...he’ll need to...do more...to get the same thrill out of it. For a little while it might be enough that he has you two now too. But not forever.” You closed your eyes, tried to think of the patterns you’d seen without thinking about each instance. “He’ll be...happy for a little bit. He’ll feel like he’s won, hurting you both. But he’ll need to find ways to hurt you both more. And if whatever mission he’s on goes poorly, you need to know that he will take it out on us. If things go well for him, it will be different, but no less dangerous. His moods…”

“Yeah, he’s not a poster boy for sanity, is he?”

There wasn't really anything to say to that.

You pushed yourself to your feet, staggered and caught yourself. "I'm going to go upstairs and get some food. I can't think on an empty stomach."

You made your way up to the kitchen and raided the supplies, dragging it all back downstairs with you. You fell asleep next to the boys, and the last thing you felt was James' metal hand tightening around your own.


	22. All Comes Tumbling Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things come to a head

Rumlow had been gone for two days and you had  _ finally  _ figured out a way to disrupt the dome, thanks to James’ mini-EMP. You’d managed to pry it loose without damaging it too badly. James’ arm was definitely going to need some work though.

Once the dome was down, Stark’s tech should ping off all three of your trackers within seconds - and you knew the entire team would be on the way within minutes.

Exhausted on every level, you’d fallen asleep outside your boys’ cell, having raided the bedroom for pillows and blankets, buoyed into a dreamless sleep by the sounds of their voices.

And when you’d woken, you hadn’t been able to stop the soft smile from stealing over your face as you watched them, the strain of the past few days lessened by sleep.

You promised yourself that the first chance you got, you were moving back into your suite at the compound and spending a whole weekend sleeping in and laying around with the two halves of your heart.

Even if Steve did drool a little in his sleep.

The hair at the back of your neck raised and you turned, slowly.

Rumlow was sitting in shadow, just watching. His eyes were dark, flint-like. The only movement was the occasional blink, and the steady inhale and exhale of his breath.

You froze, knowing with wordless certainty that everything was about to go pear-shaped in the worst way.

“You’re never going to get them out of your system.”

You didn’t dignify that with a response, but you did push to your feet. If he came at you now, you’d fight him. You’d find a way to kick his ass. You would.

The noise woke the boys - you could hear them behind you, but you didn’t dare take your eyes away from Rumlow.

“I thought if I took your memories, then there’d be a chance.” Those dark eyes slid past you, locking on Steve and James. “But they’ll always be there to pull you back.”

“Some things even Hydra can’t take away.” James’ voice was a comforting blanket, steady and sure. As if it was an immutable fact of the universe.

You wanted to shout at him, but there would be no sliding around the black rage crawling over Rumlow’s face now. “Let’s just see about that.”

The electric current was brutal and it took Steve and James to their knees as Rumlow closed the distance between you.

You got him in the knee and had the satisfaction of hearing something in the joint crack under the force of the short, punch-like kick before he grabbed your foot and tossed you into the bars with full super soldier strength. Your head slammed against one of the bars and the world exploded into starbusts as you tried to go for a throat-chop. He brushed your arm aside, yanked the joint down and you screamed as the joint dislocated and a magnetic cuff closed over your wrist and it’s mate was slapped around one of the bars, tethering you to the door.

Rumlow ripped the door open, hinges screaming, and pressed you between the door and wall of the cell until spots danced across your vision. You could feel your lungs burning, burning…

The release of pressure was sudden and you dropped to the ground, sucking in a giant lungful of air and Rumlow stepped into the cell and grabbed James’ hair.

Rumlow dragged him from the cell, taking advantage of the impact of the electric shock, shoving him roughly into the chair even as he sent another blasting wave of electricity through both the soldiers before slamming the cell door shut on Steve, who was attempting to stand despite the fact that all of the muscles on his frame were literally convulsing.

“James, look at me,” You pleaded, watching those eyes start to focus, watching panic wash through the blue. “Baby, look at me, just at me.” You tried to keep his eyes with your own as Rumlow strapped him down.

Steve’s roar was a wordless sound of rage as Rumlow grinned and started up the machine.

“No no no no no…” Panic widened James’ eyes, breath coming in heavy gulps.

“You think your memories are so set in stone now? Let’s see what we can do about that.”

“Rumlow!” Steve strained against the cell. “Rumlow, stop! The Wakandans took out the programming - they took it all out!”

“You think,” Rumlow snorted. “You think I didn’t know that already? I’m not trying to recondition him - it’ll just hurt like hell, and maybe turn his brain into swiss cheese.” His gaze slammed into you as the machine’s pitch reached a fervent whine. “I told you, sweetheart. I promised I’d take you from them, didn’t I?” And then his hand pressed a button, and James was  _ screaming _ .

You didn’t even feel anything until your fist slammed into Rumlow’s jaw, rage running through you as you hit your absolute breaking point. You hammered his face, dropping him to a knee and then swinging your leg forward. He managed to block the knee-strike, shoving you back and regaining his feet.

Behind you you could hear Steve ramming his full weight against the cell door. Could hear the metal screaming.

And then there was no time to think because you were in the fight of your life.

You couldn’t hit like the boys, but you were faster. Just fast enough to count, and slippery enough thanks to all the training Nat and Clint had put you through. You fought dirty, drawing Rumlow away from the chair, away from the control panel as Steve smashed the damn door off it’s fucking hinges.

“Get him out of there!” You managed to order as you and Rumlow closed again. You managed to drive your elbow into his gut, yanked upwards and caught him full on in the face again. “Get him out of that fucking chair!”

You took a hit to the ribs, pushed through the pain as Rumlow circled towards the stairs.

You bared your teeth at him and saw the first flicker of uncertainty across bloodshot eyes.

“C’mon, Buck.” There was real fear in Steve’s voice that had your head snapping around. “C’mon, Barnes, open those eyes for me.”

It was the distraction Rumlow’d been waiting for, but instead of hitting you, he fast-tracked it up the stairs.

It wasn’t even a question - you ran to James and Steve.

James wasn’t moving. Wasn’t making any noises. Eyes open, but sightless, and for a moment your heart stopped until you saw the rise and fall of his chest.

“Y/n,” Steve murmured your name softly, shaking the last of the restraints off James’ arm. “You have to go.”

You ignored him, slipping your hand into James’. Not even a reflexive squeeze from that flesh hand.

“Y/n. You have to complete the mission.” Steve snapped in his full Captain voice.

You looked at him, shocked and feeling the sting of betrayal. “No!”

“You have to disrupt the dome.” He reminded you. “You bring that down, the calvary shows up, we get Bucky to Wakanda and Shuri fixes whatever shit Rumlow just did to his head.”

He was right, you knew he was right, but it still killed you to let go of James’ hand and stand.

You found Rumlow where the generator for the dome was - it was the only logical place for it to be, since the ‘office’ was the one place you hadn’t explored.

Your hit practically took the door off its hinges just in time for Rumlow to snap the gun up and fire in quick succession. You managed to dodge, and then snapped out one of Nat’s kicks that took the gun out of his hand.

“C’mon, baby,” Rumlow taunted.

You wouldn’t freeze, wouldn’t hesitate. You would kill him, because if you didn’t, he would kill the two people who mattered most to you in the world.

And you didn’t.

You used every dirty trick in the book to back him into a corner - you kicked, hit, bit. You staggered back, catching yourself against the desk and hands closing over a letter opener.

You drove it forward and had the utterly vindicating sensation of meeting solid flesh, felt hot blood spill over your hand as Rumlow staggered. You jerked the blade free, stabbed again, and again, and again until your arm threatened to fucking cramp and Rumlow was on the floor.

Dome.

You had to deactivate the dome.

You looked around and spotted a thermos-sized device emitting a hum that sat just at the edge of your enhanced hearing and thanked whatever gods there were that S.H.I.E.L.D had that stupid habit of slapping their logo on fucking  _ everything _ .

You closed your hand around it and squeezed with the last of your strength.

It whined, then died as it was crushed under your hands.

For good measure you dropped it on the floor and stomped the shit out of it as a wave of exhaustion and cold started to creep through your body.

You glanced down, realized your shirt was tacky not just with Rumlow’s blood, but some of your own around the entry wound in your side where you apparently hadn’t dodged quite fast enough.

Huh.

You blinked at it stupidly as the rest of your body began sending pain signals again. Your arm - dislocated. Thumb? Broken, skin bloody and raw where you’d pulled it free from the cuff. Ribs? Absolutely cracked. Badly.

Your legs went out from under you, even as you grabbed at the desk. Oh, this was not good. Very very not good, as your arms gave out next, dropping you onto your ass on the floor, side leaning against the desk.

Rumow moved.

“Oh come on,” You groaned. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

As least there was some vindication in watching him fight through an obvious amount of pain, pushing himself off the floor. His hands shook as he felt the various stab wounds and you felt primal satisfaction as he gasped in discomfort.

Half kneeling, panting hard, he shot you a fulminating glare.

You were dead. That was it.

But at least the dome was down.

Rumlow moved, a staggering half-step toward you.

And then you both heard it - the sound of a quinjet close by. So close, well within the range of the dome. Your lips curved upwards.

“Guess you gotta make some choices,” Your eyes both went to the window, to the shouts of the team that had clearly arrived.

He snarled, a wordless sound of anger and pain and hatred and longing all rolled into one and staggered for the door.

The last of your energy was fading and your body relaxed against the desk even as you heard footsteps coming up the stairs and then Clint was there and so was Nat and even Stark.

“Basement,” You gasped, even as Clint dropped next to you, hands searching out the source of the bleed. “Steve, James…”

“We’ll get them,” Stark promised.

The two master assassins started packing the wound and you let the world drift away a little bit because everything was a little fuzzy around the edges, and hey, wasn’t adrenaline and shock a hell of a combo?


	23. Safe Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Headed for Wakanda  
> AND FINALLY - SMUT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut smut smut - first time writing it, so be gentle with me 😆

You didn’t come back to yourself until Steve was kneeling in front of you on the Quinjet, eyes concerned. His hands brushed over the bandages with regret and you managed to shake off the fog.

“I almost got him.” You tried to explain. “I was this close.”

“And you nearly died doing it.”

“Two words.” You held up fingers, ticking them off as you spoke, feeling more yourself with each passing minute, a sign that your metabolism was kicking into high gear with the healing factor. “Worth. It.” Your eyes searched Steve’s face and saw no answering humor. “What about James? How..?”

“We’re headed straight for Shuri.” He told you. “He’s...he’s alive but he’s not...It’s like Rumlow wiped the part of him that’s Bucky.” You saw his lip tremble and opened your arms, unable to deny him this comfort. “It’s like when...before he really remembered being Bucky. Like someone hit a reset switch and he’s just...waiting for someone to tell him what to do.”

Your stomach pitched at the thought of those early days, back when Steve and Stark had practically torn the team apart between them. Before your time, but not by much, and you knew it was a fear your boys both shared - that James would somehow lose himself, either in the memories of the Winter Soldier days or in the space between being activated and being his own man. 

“We’ll get him back.” You promised, and hoped like hell the universe wasn’t about to make a liar out of you as you passed the Wakandan border.

“You have to stop breaking my favorite white boy,” Were the first words out of Shuri’s mouth as you joined her and Steve in the lab, but she shot you a wide smile to let you know she was partially kidding.

You’d been taken to medical on landing, despite reassuring everyone that you were in fact healing just fine. Medical confirmed it with a quick scan and you’d rushed down here as quickly as your super serum legs would take you. 

“I can fix him, but this is getting to be too regular a thing for my taste.” The teen genius - no, you corrected yourself, the young woman now - gave you both a scowl so false it had your lips twitching upwards even as your heart was quaking in your chest.

“Will he…” You couldn’t quite make yourself finish the sentence, even with your hand slipped into Steve’s.

“He’ll be fine in a few days.” Shuri reassured you both. “Think of it...sort of like resetting a phone. Rumlow didn’t do enough damage to wipe it, but his brain is taking a little extra time to reboot. I’m going to keep him under just to be safe, but when he wakes up, he’ll be your Bucky again.”

The relief you felt was crushing, almost as crushing as the hug Steve gave you.

“We’re all safe,” You murmured into that broad chest as you saw Shuri move discretely away and towards the cryo-tube James was already in. “We’re all safe, and we’re going to be okay.”

You felt the massive shudder rip through Steve’s frame and knew he’d reached his own limit. “Come on,” You said, stepping back and reclaiming his hand. “Shuri will let us know if she needs us. Right now, I need you to let me take care of you.”

He was uncharacteristically quiet as you led him out of the lab, through the high-tech hallways towards the guest apartments you’d had the last time you’d been here figuring they were the closest thing to 'your' room you had within the palace walls.

Steve said nothing as you shut the door to the room behind you, and gave him a gentle push towards the bathroom. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” You kept your voice soft and gentle. No expectations, just a need to take care of the man who took care of so many other people. “Come on, babe.”

He barely reacted as you undressed him, carefully removing gear first, setting it on the counter. Your fingers made quick work of the utility belt, the half gloves on his hands. He offered you no resistance as you stripped him of his clothes, one item at a time. Said nothing still as you ran careful hands over his skin, pleased to see that he was whole, though he did shudder as your fingers grazed one nipple.

You started the shower, let the water run for a few seconds to hot - bless Wakandan technology- and then carefully almost-shoved him under the spray.

When he just stood there, eyes shut against the water, you stripped yourself down and joined him.

“Let me,” You murmured, reaching for the soap on the sunken shelf. “Let me take care of you, Steve.” Asking, always asking because he was the Captain too, and the Captain did not handle letting go of control well.

Again, he trembled like a minor quake as some emotional fault line ripped open, and he nodded, once.

So you washed him, carefully, gently. Moved your hands in soapy circles over his shoulders, his arms. Down over his chest, his sides.

It could have been sexual - your brain had memories (very happy ones) of times it had been- but this was more than that. This was kindness and connection and a tender swelling of love that had very little to do with the dirtiest kind of clean and everything to do with that elusive something inside you that, even in the face of terrors you still couldn’t bring yourself to think about, had refused to let go of either of these incredible men.

With every touch you were saying ‘I love you’ and ‘you’re here’ and ‘we’re whole’.

“Can I wash your hair?” You asked, when you’d cleaned and soaped every inch of him you could reach.

Steve swallowed, hard, and sat on the bench at the back of the shower stall, turning slightly so you wouldn’t have to reach all the way around him. And as you lathered up that burnt golden hair, slowly working your way around his scalp and massaging carefully, you finally felt that tension beneath the surface snap and his hands came to your hips and yanked you against him as he pressed his face to your chest and wept.

When he was done, you towel dried both of you and led him to the bed - oh, the jokes T’Challa had made the first time you’d requested a bigger one with a sturdier frame - and laid side by side. Not touching, not speaking, just breathing. Just  _ seeing  _ that this part of your heart at least was safe and whole and here.

And somewhere in the early light of morning that was washing through the room, those nebula blue eyes finally closed as Steve slipped into sleep.

You woke with the heat of a thousand suns burning at your back and one of Steve’s massive thighs tossed over your own. His arm was wrapped around you and his nose was buried in your neck, each breath softly tickling the sensitive skin there.

“Morning,” You said softly, and laughed a little as that arm tightened around you in denial. “I take it we’re staying here for a while?”

“Mhmph.” Steve just nuzzled into your neck and pressed his body more firmly against yours, letting you know that even if he wasn’t ready to be up, a certain part of his anatomy was definitely wide awake. A second later, his entire body tensed as he realized what he’d done. “Shit, y/n, I didn’t...I wasn’t thinking…”

You turned in his arms so you could look at him. “Steve,” You said softly, hands caressing that gorgeous, worried jaw. “It’s okay. You’re not...You’re not him. Every part of me knows that.”

“You need time.” He said and you saw the start of that stubborn set to his face that meant he was about to dig his heels in.

Oh hell no.

Rumlow had taken enough from you - from all three of you. He didn’t get to take this from you anymore.

“Steve, I would really really like to make love with you. Right now.” As he started to shake his head, you gave him a gentle shove and he rolled onto his back. “You’re safe. I’m safe. James is safe. If you don’t want this, then that’s okay. But please, please don’t make this about what you think I need - or don’t need - from you because of what he did.”

His hands ran up and down your shoulders. “I don’t want to...what if…”

_ What if it reminded you of Rumlow _ . 

The words weren’t spoken, but they were hanging over you both.

“Then we’ll stop, and you’ll have star-spangled blue balls.” You grinned as your cheeky comment did exactly what it was intended to do and made him laugh. “But if you really, really don’t want to do this, then I can respect that and use my fingers to get myself off like any grown ass wom-” 

His kiss caught the rest of the sentence and god, it was like being devoured by a supernova as he showed you exactly how badly he wanted this.

You were both panting by the time he let go, and you could feel the rapid beat of his heart under your hands as you straddled him, hands on his chest. You rubbed against the length of him, already feeling your slick wetness beginning to coat him, felt a different kind of trembling beginning in those thick thighs as he brought his hands to your hips, skimming upwards. You drank in the reverence of a worshipper beaming out of those blue eyes as he levered himself upright to lower those plump lips to your breast.

You gasped at the sensation of his lips against that sensitive skin, the drag of barely-there stubble, the heat and wet of his mouth. “Steve…”

He laughed again, but it was a richer sound now, as you rolled your hips against him. “Missed this.”

“Me too,” You whispered, feeling like you might combust if you didn’t move more.

“Want to watch you ride me,” He admitted as he kissed up the column of your throat and even then, you noticed how careful his grip was - as if he was afraid to hold you too tightly, afraid to do anything at all that might make you feel caged or trapped.

Your heart melted.

You pressed your hand to his chest and pushed, light as a feather, but he still laid back, propping one hand back under his head with a soft groan as he took in the wicked light in your eyes.

You mimed tipping a Stetson and were rewarded with another laugh as you said, “Yeehaw.”

Before he could finish the last notes of laughter - god, you wanted to bottle that sound so you could carry it with you forever - you slid over and onto him, sheathing him in one smooth motion that had both of you freezing for a moment.

“Shit.” He whispered, shutting those eyes for a moment and you watched him wrestle against his instinct to thrust. “Fuck, y/n. You feel…”

You could feel your own walls fluttering around him, the welcome stretch. “Yeah. You too…”

“Gimme a minute,” He pleaded. “Shit...two minutes. Fuck”

You couldn’t stay there, you had to  _ move  _ as you watched him curl his hands into fists in the sheets, straining not to do something, anything with your wet heat encompassing him.

So you did, rolling your hips on him - around him - til he turned the air blue with curse-words and pleas and adoration that made you feel as though you were the center of his world and his hands moved from the sheets to your hips as you drove both of you higher and higher, closer to the edge.

You kept riding him as your own pleasure peaked, sent you spinning and shattering into space and felt his hips snap up, driving him deep into you as his own release drove him.

You lay there for long moments afterwards, draped over his chest while his fingers moved over your back in soothing circles, just hearing each other breathe. Feeling his heart near yours. Waiting for the stars to fade from your eyes.

“Well,” You said finally. “Save a horse, ride a cowboy didn’t quite cover that one.”

He pressed a kiss to your nose as you grinned up at him. “No it did not.”

“You going to be okay?” You asked.

“Yeah,” He said, squeezing you to his chest. “We’re all going to be okay.”


	24. Take a Breath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi readers! I promise this story isn’t over yet - I did promise to kill Rumlow, and I fully intend to honor that promise - but I think I’m going to have to slow it down and commit to only posting new chapters on Wednesdays for a bit. My job just ended and I honestly need a bit of time to decompress, but I do want to keep writing while I figure out what's next - I just can’t quite sustain the previous pace! Sorry in advance for the slow down.

You watched as the runtiest goat of the bunch head-butted the fencepost again.

“I see you’ve met Steve.” James' arms wrapped around you and you leaned your head back against his chest, enjoying the warmth of him at your back.

The three of you were at Bucky’s place, outside the palace and city walls. Had been for nearly two days now, just the three of you. No labs, no royalty, no Avengers. Shuri had personally cleared James, and now the three of you were taking an actual vacation.

Or to quote you on the phone with Fury, “We’re taking a fucking break.” And then you’d hung up on him and spent the next forty-eight hours with just the three of you sleeping, eating and talking. Or not talking. 

Well, the three of you and James’ goats.

“The resemblance is uncanny.” You agreed, pressing a quick kiss to the underside of his jaw. “Tasha’s still my favorite though.”

James winced. “She’ll get you with those stabby little horns.”

“Exactly.” You laughed and turned towards him. “Where’s our Steve?”

“Scrolling through Twitter.”

You groaned. “I thought we got his account frozen.”

“You can’t exactly keep him off there.” James leaned down, pressed his lips against yours. Warm, soft. Tastes of home as you slipped in just the tiniest bit of tongue. “He  _ is _ a grown man.”

“He’s always posting snarky comments in response to the president. He’s just picking a virtual fight. We're on vacation. I’m going to steal his phone,” You decided. “And hide it.”

“I dunno,” James teased. “I think he might be, like,  _ this _ close to actually fighting this one.”

“Aren’t we supposed to stop him from doing things like that?”

“I dunno,” He set his chin on the top of your head. “I think I might join him this time.” He laughed at your eye-roll “No sign of Rumlow.”

You sighed. “He’ll surface again. Eventually.”

“We’ll get him.”

You said nothing to that, feeling a treasonous twinge of guilt inside.

The truth was, you wanted nothing to do with the hunt for Rumlow right now. You wanted him dead - slowly and painfully if at all possible- but more important than that was the fact that the three of you were together and you were safe.

You didn’t know yet how to articulate those feelings to Steve and James, who, as twitter was proving, did not know how to back down from any fight.

But you wanted this time with them - wanted to step away from the violence and the danger and the adrenaline. Not permanently. Just...just long enough to heal.

Because it was going to take time.

James’ nightmares had returned full force when he’d woken up. Last night he’d been caught in the grip of a terrible dream that he wouldn’t talk about. 

It had taken both yours and Steve’s super strength to hold him down, and even then, it almost hadn’t been enough. You’d held him between the two of you for hours when he’d woken up, trembling and shaking with the aftereffects.

And you knew Steve was wrestling with his own guilt over what had happened, making the decision to let Rumlow take them both. He wouldn’t be able to let go of that til James was whole again.

And you? You were waiting, just waiting for the next bomb to drop. Because there always was another one, wasn’t there? You even knew the word for the feeling that was constantly squatting in the back of your mind - hyper-vigiliance.

Your musings were interrupted by a bleat from Tony, who had claimed the ‘throne’ - aka, a large rock in the middle of the pen. “He’s as loud as Stark, I’ll give him that.”

James snorted. “Look at Clint.”

You blinked. “How the hell did he get up there?”

You leaned back and looked up at the stars. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen so many, so brightly. It was beautiful.

The three of you had been laying there in the field for a while, watching the stunning Wakanda sunset turn to star rise. James’ hand drew small circles over your hip, and you laced your fingers with Steve’s.

A week of recovering and it felt like you were all beginning to move forward. James was working with a therapist and Shuri; Steve had gone for a long walk with T’Challa and come back looking like a weight had been lifted.

And you?

You wanted nothing more than to stay like this for the rest of your lives.

But all of you knew it couldn’t last - three super serum enhanced heroes the world would need couldn’t hide forever. And Rumlow was still out there, somewhere.

You gave yourself a little shake and pushed those thoughts from your mind, focusing on the heat of the two bodies lying next to you, the feel of James’ fingers ghosting over you and Steve’s chest beneath your cheek.

And then Steve began to talk, pointing out different constellations, telling you both in low tones the stories behind them, and the different versions he’d heard in his time as Nomad.

You fell asleep under the stars with a full heart.


	25. A Regrettable Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soft smut with James! YAY!
> 
> Also, your peaceful stay in Wakanda comes to an end, and your loveable idiots try to protect you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp...You know how I said I wasn't posting again til Wednesday?
> 
> I LIED
> 
> *insert maniacal cackling here because I wrote three new chapters this week literally right after I said I wouldn't post til Wednesdays* 😅😆😭

You woke up the next morning to find Steve already gone for his morning run and James’ metal arm over your waist, holding your back to his front, like a life-size teddy bear being squeezed by a kid in his sleep.

You shifted, rolled so you could stroke the side of his face. “James…”

He just nuzzled into your neck and shoulder with a pleased rumble.

The laugh burst out of you, uncontrollable, and when you stopped you had the pleasure of looking into glacially blue eyes that sparkled. 

“Do that again,” He ordered, voice rough with sleep.

“No.” You stuck your tongue out at him.

“Bet I can make you,” He threatened and you felt fingers ghost along your sides as your eyes widened in understanding.

“Don’t you dare - James Buchannon Bar-” The rest of his name was lost as he tickled your sides and you shrieked and laughed in turns. “Cut that out, I mean it!”

He relented, but he didn’t let you go. “It’s good to hear that laugh again.”

“It’s good to be able to.” You traced the shape of his lips with your finger and the air around you both thickened with tension, with  _ longing  _ so heavy and ripe you should have physically felt it against your skin. “James…”

“Y/n,” He breathed your name like it was a prayer as he brushed your hair out of your face. “Y/n…”

Then your lips were touching, soft, gentle, as if he wasn’t sure of his welcome. As if he was afraid you would break, or push him away. His hands were on you, but they weren’t moving, weren’t holding.

That wouldn’t do at all.

You gave his bottom lip a bite - just the right amount of pressure - and when he gasped, you slipped your tongue into his mouth and  _ plundered  _ with all the greediness you’d been holding inside. You used your lips and teeth and tongue to show him the depths of your craving for him, for this.

His hands weren’t still now; no, they grabbed you like you were a lifeline - like you were the only thing in existence as he moved, rolling until he was pressed on top of you, all down the length of you, and doing a fair amount of plundering himself as he swept them over your body.

You moaned as he gripped your hips and he froze. “Don’t...don’t stop...James, please…”

It was the ‘please’ that did it, and you had time to see one corner of his mouth tug upwards in a masculine, smug smirk before he lowered his head to that sweet spot at the base of your neck and gave you a kiss that was equal parts teeth and soft lips that had you moaning again, arching up even as his body pressed down. 

Your hands reached up, tangled into that thick mass of dark hair, pulling him closer and you felt him practically purr in satisfaction as you reached one leg over his hip, urging him closer to your core impatiently.

“Don’t rush me, y/n.” His hand, the metal one, cruised from your calf, upwards, pushing the sheets back, baring your leg as those slightly-cooler fingers danced across the inside of your thigh, stopping mere finger-lengths from where you desperately wanted them to go. The look in his eyes was hot now, hot like a sun, hot like a star and you were burning up under that molten gaze, core wet and breath short. “I want to take our time with this. Let me?”

When those hot eyes drifted over your body as he asked, you felt like you were going to combust.

You nodded, and your reward was an incandescent, boyish grin before he put that mouth back on your neck, and began to kiss his way along your collarbone, trailing down, between your breasts, then your belly, pausing to lovingly press soft lips against the dips and curves he found along the way.

As his tongue grazed your navel in a way that had you arching and aching below him, you realized he was worshipping you, using his body to lay a devotional at the altar of your love that was as old as time.

And then his fingers parted your lower lips, exposing you, before he began to trace you with a featherlight touch that made you whine with need for  _ more _ .

“James. James!” You felt his lips curve against your inner thigh as he slipped a finger inside you, teasing, stroking you higher, higher…You felt that tightening inside as your body climbed towards the peak, edge of orgasm that danced just beyond your reach, but not for long as he lowered his mouth to your clit and  _ oh, god _ …

The orgasm he drew from you left you struggling to breathe, even as he coaxed you through it with clever tongue and lips and fingers, and building towards another before he slid his fingers free with a wet sound and braced himself above you on one arm and then James slid home - god, the accuracy of that - in one thrust and both of you lay there for a moment, chests heaving under the flood of sensation. Your inner walls fluttered around him as he fought not to snap his hips up and drive deep, forehead pressed against your own, praying in quiet words for patience and control that was both sweet and unnecessary.

“James,” You snarled after too many long seconds, fists tangling in the sheets in frustration. “ _ Move _ .”

His eyes jumped to yours, saw the need burning there - all for him, all for this - and finally,  _ finally _ , you felt those last chains on his control snap.

“At least we didn’t break the bed this time.” James mused as you lay sprawled next to each other, both of you basking in the afterglow.

“I think Shuri swapped the frame for something with a little more...stamina.” Your fingers were tracing over the lines of his sweat-damp body with lazy satisfaction.

He caught your hand in his own, brought it to his lips and pressed a kiss there before waggling his eyebrows lasciviously. “Stamina, huh?”

Your laugh was easy as he pulled you close, rolled you partially under him and he pressed soft kisses to your ear, your jaw, your cheek. 

“Challenge accepted.” He murmured.

“Am I interrupting?” Steve asked from the doorway, tone light and eyes dark as he drank in the sight of both of you tangled together in your bed.

“Yes.” James joked and winced as you playfully slapped at his chest. “Ouch, doll.”

“We were going to test out how sturdy this bed frame is,” You extended your other arm towards Steve, saw the tension in his body that had nothing to do with desire and felt your heart sink. “What is it, Steve?”

“Rumlow’s back.”

All of that lovely, lazy morning feeling went out the window at Steve’s words. James’ back went tense under your fingers even as you separated, discarding the intimate moment with regret.

“Where?” You asked even as James was kicking off the covers and grabbing pants.

“New York. Hill’s intel caught him heading out of the city a couple hours ago, headed upstate.”

“He thinks we’re at the compound.”

Steve nodded as you slid into your own clothes, shoving socks on and jamming your feet into boots even as you snapped up your pants and pulled a shirt over your head. “Yeah. Seems to jive.”

“Think he’ll go for a full frontal attack?”

“He’d be crazy to try.” Steve shrugged. “But we all know he’s not...all together. T’Challa’s having a jet prepped for us - should be ready within the hour.” You felt his eyes slide over the bed with regret and wishfulness. “Wish I had better tidings.”

“When this is over,” You placed your hands on his chest, leaned up, and pressed your lips to his own. “We’re all going to take a  _ real _ vacation, and I am not,” You punctuated each word with a kiss along his jaw, then down his neck. “Going. To. Let. You. Out. Of. Bed. For a week.” You finished, shooting him a look of hot promise as you went to grab your pack.

Steve looked at Bucky as you finished saying goodbye to the goats and said the words quietly enough that you wouldn’t hear them. “You with me, Buck?”

Bucky’s grimace was pained but he nodded and Steve felt a small measure of relief as Bucky showed him the night-night patch he’d slipped into his palm before tucking it out of sight in case you turned around. “Yup.”

“She’s gonna hate us.”

“She’ll be here to hate us.” Bucky pointed out. “I can’t...I can’t stand the thought of Rumlow getting his hands on her, Stevie. Not again. Not...Not now.” He nodded, mind made up. “He won’t be able to get to her here. He won’t even be stupid enough to try, no matter how crazy he is.”

“So, we’re agreed.”

“We’re agreed, punk.”

“Hey,” You said, looking up at both of them with eyes that were unexpectedly bright. You really were attached to those goats, Steve realized and felt his mouth soften towards a smile. “Let’s do this. Last one to the landing pad buys takeout when we get back to New York. I’m craving some classic Italian food…”

“Just,” Steve folded his arms around you, felt you soften in his embrace. Felt guilt kick in his gut. “One minute.”

“Not that this isn’t nice,” You grumbled. “But, uh, random much?”

“Shut up, you.” Steve kissed the top of your head and nodded to Bucky, who slapped the sleep-aide patch on the back of your arm. “I’m so sorry, babe.”

“Steve, wha-” You barely had time to look up at him with confusion in your eyes before the night-night patch did its work. “Sonovabitch.'

“We had to, Buck.” 

James nodded as he continued through the pre-flight checklist, and Steve felt something in his own chest tighten and wrench at the memory of leaving you in the little house, alone, snoring softly on the bed that a few hours ago you and Bucky had made love in.

It was the right thing to do.

You would be safe here, and T'Challa would keep you from doing something stupid like coming after them.

They would earn your trust back, Steve promised himself as he strapped into the co-pilot's seat. After they took Rumlow out, they would come back here and they would find a way to make it up to you.

The ramp for the jet began to open.

“What are you…” Steve started to ask, but Bucky shook his head.

“Not me.”

"Sorry, white boys," Shuri's voice from the speaker sounded less like a princess and more like a punky little sister who was just a little too pleased with herself. "I think you forgot something."

Very familiar footsteps stomped their way up the gangplank as both men turned to see you striding onboard with your pack, which you strapped into the cargo harness with tight and jerky motions that indicated a fine temper.

You didn’t say anything. Just sat in the second row seat directly behind Steve and buckled yourself in.

Steve felt sweat begin to bead along his hairline as your eyes drilled into the back of his head. Shot Bucky a nervous look, and got one in return as he closed the ramp and finished the last few pre-flight items.

This was going to be a long flight.


	26. Regression to the Mean P.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's a little bit of angst between lovers?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst angst angst as you arrive back at the avengers' compound and the team begins to plan...

“So, what do we know?” Your question was for Nat the minute you strolled down the plank of the jet.

You hadn’t said a single word to Steve or James the whole flight, and you weren’t ready to change that just yet. 

Hot, liquid anger and sharp icy hurt were twining around your insides and you knew if you opened your mouth on that topic, nothing good would come spewing out until you’d had a chance to sort through the caustic mix of emotions eating away at you.

“Not a lot. He’s made his way to the nearby town, but we lost him there. Stark and Banner think he’s using some more of that pilfered tech he took from S.H.I.E.L.D. so there’s not really a good way to track his movements.” Nat’s face turned grim as the four of you strode towards the buildings. “Based on his erratic behavior there’s really only one thing we know he’ll do for sure.”

“He’ll come for me.” The words would’ve crippled you before, sparking a cascade of memories and emotions. Now they filled you with a calm, cool readiness, steadied you, gave you something to focus on that was tangible and a welcome distraction from the mix of feelings stewing inside your chest. “Underhanded or through the front gates, that’ll be his play.”

Nat nodded. “I agree.”

“So, what’s the plan?”

“Come inside.”

“Hey kiddo,” Tony hugged you and ruffled your hair as the four of you stepped into the command center. “Wakanda agrees with you, clearly. Or was it the company?” He winked over his shoulder at Steve and James. “I had F.R.I.D.A.Y. get your suite together - I’m thinking of renaming it the Super Soldier Sex Room. Too much?”

“Too much, Tony.” Steve said, and the flatness in his voice had Stark’s eyes ping-ponging between the three of you. “Just...tell us what we got.”

“I was just going to ask you three the same thing.” Tony was staring at you, hard, and under the weight of a too-understanding stare, you let your gaze slide away first. “Is this because Cap and the Manchurian Candidate tried to keep you out of the fight?”

“You mean when they drugged me and left me behind?” You couldn’t help the hard edge in your voice and the conference room took on noticeably chilly tones. “When they tried to make my own decisions for me?”

“Uh...sure, we’ll go with that.” Tony tossed a ‘ _ you are so dead _ ’ look at Steve. “How can I - or F.R.I. help?”

“Let’s just...focus on finding Rumlow and finishing this.” You ran a hand through your hair. “Let’s try to stay on point.”

“O-kay.” Tony grimaced but the conversation moved on.

The planning and strategizing had been exhausting. Going round and around again and again, trying to plan for every eventuality, every possibility that could play out.

You’d struggled to keep your feelings out of it, but it was hard. Rumlow would make a play for you - either to kill you or recapture you - and that meant Steve and James adamantly opposing nearly any plan that involved using you as bait.

“Might I remind you,” Your teeth were practically ground down to the nub on the last go-round. “That I’ve survived this fucker twice now, and almost killed him the last time?”

“We’re not doing anything that leaves you exposed.” Steve’s jaw might’ve been set in adamantium it was so resolute. “We do this smart, or we don’t do it.”

“That’s rich coming from you, Captain Jumping To Conclusions.” Clint had jibbed and the whole room had exploded into another round of squabbling that left your head throbbing.

In the end, very little had been decided except that, yes, you were staying here, because you already were, and because if Rumlow had been watching, he would know you were here for sure now. Stark had stepped up the defensive measures of the compound, you were not allowed off-site, and F.R.I.D.A.Y. would be tracking your movements at all times.

Now it was late, your body physically hurt from the emotional whiplash of the last twenty-four hours as the group of you staggered back to the dormitory housing.

You would trade your soul for a shower and thirty minutes of peace and quiet, you swore as Nat and Clint traded sibling-like jabs behind you and James and Steve kept glancing over their shoulders at you every twenty seconds.

The site of pizza boxes stacked on the counter had everyone swearing thanks to Tony and for a glorious ten minutes, the only sounds were of people chewing and stuffing their faces. But the post-pizza carb coma could only buy so much time before people started making noises and drifting out.

You closed your hand over the strap of your go bag. “I’d like my own room, please, F.R.I.D.A.Y.”

Your words had Nat doing a double take, and James’ jaw dropped while Steve just stiffened. You steeled yourself against their reactions - if you had to share a room with James and Steve right now, you knew it would end in major blood loss, emotional or physical, and you just...you just wanted to focus on bringing Rumlow down.

“Oh, come on,” Tony bounced one shoulder off of yours in an overly cheerful voice, “Who hasn’t tried to keep their loved ones safe by doing something drastic at one point or another?”

He wasn’t  _ wrong _ . You knew at the very least he wasn’t inaccurate, historically speaking. It didn’t do anything to lessen the anger - or the hurt - that had swelled up inside you when you’d woken up to find yourself alone in Wakanda.

“No? Just me?” Tony was steamrolling along. “Well, this is awkward. Who wants to go for a walk..? Nat? Sam? Good, yes. Let’s go. Leave these three to...chat.”

None of you spoke as the door closed behind Stark and Natasha and Sam.

The silence in the room was a fucking anvil on your chest.

“Don’t,” You stepped back even as Steve stepped forward, felt your eyes water as he froze, anguish painted all over that face. “Don’t you fucking  _ dare _ say you’re sorry. I know you’d be lying.”

You wished you could have found some kind of vindication in the pain you saw on them. It was inked over them, stamped into their bones, as surely as your own pain was.

You had no doubt that they hadn’t meant to hurt you like this.

You also had no doubt that they would have done the exact same thing - or worse - in a heartbeat all over again.

Out of love. Out of protective need.

Out of guilt for everything you’d already gone through.

But the truth that had ripped through you as you’d grabbed your pack and ran for the landing pad in Wakanda after texting Shuri to hold the jet was that you couldn’t cage someone - for any reason - and really call it love.

And then you’d been striding across the pad and up the ramp, and you’d had to choke that realization down and bury it under fistfuls of hot anger so you wouldn’t scream and cry and walk away from them.

You loved them.

All of them.

Even the parts of them that hurt you - not because they were trying to hurt you but because they cared so damn much they couldn’t think straight. Cared so much they hadn’t realized you would  _ never _ have done this to them. You might be angry or mad or hurt if they did something stupid, but you’d never seriously attempt to take the choice away from either of them.

You didn’t think that asking for the same thing in return was too much to ask.

“I don’t…” Your voice wobbled and you cleared your throat. “I don’t have anything to say to either one of you right now, and there isn’t anything you can say to me that would be helpful. Let’s just...focus on Rumlow.”

“We fucked up.” James’ metal fist clenched and unclenched as his eyes pleaded with you for understanding. “Please, y/n-”

You laughed. “Understatement.” You shook your head. “I’m tired, I want to put my bag down and shower and pass out. This day...this day has just been too much. If it isn’t about stopping Rumlow, I don’t have the energy for it.”

“Were we just supposed to be okay with this?” Steve asked. “Just...say nothing? Do nothing? While you put yourself at risk. Again?”

“See, here’s the thing,” You pinned them each with an unforgiving stare. “I didn’t. I didn’t expect you to be happy, or okay. What I expected was for the two of you to  _ talk to me _ , using words. Not drug me and leave me behind. I didn’t expect my lovers to leave me helpless and alone and afraid.” Your voice shook at the end and you hated it. “And that’s all I have to say to either of you about it. Now, F.R.I.D.A.Y? Do I have a room?”

“Yes, y/n.Your previous room is still available.”

“Good. I’m going to go shower off this day. I’ll see you in the morning.” You strode past them and didn’t look back.


	27. Making Up Is The Best Part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The struggle continues, and then....MAKEUP SMUT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp, first time writing all three of you together...be kind - it's my first threesome scene :)
> 
> SMUT SMUT SMUTTINESS SMUT (i.e. 18+ and don't read at work, maybe?)

The water from the shower managed to do what the day hadn’t and helped you slough off the first layer of shields you’d erected around your feelings, leaving you over-numbed by the time you turned it off and reached for a fluffy towel.

The sound you let out when a familiar hand passed you one made you squeak like a mouse. “Goddamn it, I said I wanted to be alone.” You wrapped the towel around yourself and crossed your arms over your chest as you stared down the two super soldiers invading your privacy. “Do you really think this is the best time - and way - to do this right now?”

“You want us to talk to you,” Steve was mirroring you - arms crossed over his chest “So we’re here to talk.”

You resisted the urge to slap some sense into him. It was hard - your hand actually twitched. “I meant in the morning when we all have clearer heads. Besides,” You pointed out, sidling around them and grabbing your pajamas. “You were prepared to leave me in Wakanda for however long it took to catch Rumlow - were you planning to take my calls when I woke up and you were on a different continent? Or were you going to wait to talk to me til it was convenient for you?”

James flushed red, and Steve shifted uncomfortably as your point hit home.

You managed to shimmy into your underwear without dropping the towel, and pulled the t-shirt - one of James’ - over your head. When the material hit your thighs, you dropped the towel and started toweling your hair. Neither man was moving. “Fine. You want to talk? Talk. Or get out. I don’t care.”

“Don’t bullshit,” Steve growled, stepping closer, trying to intimidate you with his mass. “You care.”

“I care,” You admitted, refusing to look away from those super blue eyes. “About _us_. About how we help make each other stronger, better. How we help each other. How we trust each other. You two took a giant dump on that trust, and until I have time to sort through everything in here,” You tapped your chest. “I don’t care what your excuses are.”

“It’s not an excuse,” James’ words were quiet in the steamed room. “It’s not an excuse to want - to act - to keep you safe.”

“Are you…” You threw the towel in the corner. “Are you seriously trying to justify drugging me? What was your genius plan, assholes? Leave me in Wakanda for days? Weeks? However long it took to catch Rumlow? At what point would you call and say ‘oops, sorry bout that, doll’? Or would you put that on T’Challa or Shuri to do for you?” Your eyes narrowed as they both shrugged. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Do you know what it did to us?" James' teeth were grinding and you knew he was close to losing the calm air that so many people thought was the real Bucky Barnes. "Losing you not once, but twice? And the second time…Having to watch that...that _fucker_...” James’ metal hand closed around the edge of the counter and crumbled the very posh granite. “Did you really expect us to be okay with putting you in the line of fire again?”

“And what about me?” You could feel yourself softening, but it did nothing to lessen the hurt they’d caused. “What am I supposed to feel, knowing now that Rumlow will stop at nothing to kill both of you now?” You’d crossed to James before you’d made the conscious decision, hands cupping that rock-solid jaw as you drew his eyes to yours. “You aren’t the only ones afraid of losing this. But I would have gone into the field by your side, where I could watch your backs. Where I could make sure you both came home again. How would you feel if I’d done this to you?”

James’ face was heavy in your hands as his head dropped, realizing, finally, the enormity of what they’d done to you. His chest heaved, one, twice, whole body shuddering. In the mirror over his shoulder you could see the stubbornness drop from Steve’s shoulders.

“I love you.” You told them both. “I love you so much, and if it meant keeping you safe and whole, there isn’t a single bad guy, evil organization, invading alien army I wouldn’t take on. Right beside you both.”

The bathroom was filled with silence for long moments.

“How do we fix this?” Steve’s words were soft, his gaze lost in the mirror.

You sighed, feeling old, tired, and just...too many things. “I don’t know. I can...I can wrap my head around why you did this. Even understand it to a certain point. It’s just going to take me some time to...to get past it I think.” You drew in another breath, met James’ eyes, then Steve’s. “But you guys can’t...you can’t ever do something like this again.”

Steve nodded.

“Never,” James promised.

“We’re all fucked up.” Your observation made both of their lips quirk in half-hearted smiles. “I mean, we all have damage. We’re all still functional in the face of it. But it does mean we have lines that we can’t cross. Each of us.” James’ memories and autonomy. Steve’s need for clarity and control. “And if we slip up in the act of living and cross a line, yeah, it’ll hurt like a wicked bitch, but what keeps us moving forward is the ability to talk to each other, to tell each other.”

“So now...now what?”

Another sighed pushed past your lips as you stepped back from James. “Bed. We all need sleep.”

“Can we…” James wouldn’t look at you when he asked. “Can we stay with you?”

It was beyond your ability to refuse them comfort now that you knew they understood how badly they’d messed up. And truthfully? You needed comfort too.

“No.” You shook your head, saw the wince cross James’ face, saw the flinch in Steve’s body. “Not here. Let’s go to our room.”

“Are you sure?” Steve asked.

You nodded mutely.

“Let me grab your ba-” James’ words stopped as you pressed a hand to his lips and shook your head. 

“Leave it. I’ll get it in the morning.”

His hands gathered the t-shirt at your hips and he bent his head down to brace it against yours. “Thank you.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Thank you, darling.”

“Well,” You admitted an hour later, lying on your back in the middle of the giant bed. “This is awkward.”

The three of you had been laying there, each of you staring at the ceiling, none of you sleeping, or even touching. You in your stolen t-shirt and the boys in boxers because sweet freaking jesus the two of them put off an ungodly amount of heat at night.

Steve laughed. “Thank god you said something.” 

And like that, it was as if you were on even footing again, like a million nights before as Steve rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one arm and looking at you and James, even as you felt laughter shake your frame as James’ hand slid across your belly to your hip with a gentle, possessive grip.

“It’s going to take time,” James said. “But yeah, that was especially awkward.”

“Even more awkward than the time Steve surprised us both with edible paints?” You wondered.

Steve’s indignant ‘hey!’ made your smile grow even as James waffled his other hand back and forth with a playful grin. “Close call.”

“It was pretty awful.” You felt obliged to remind Steve, even as he shifted his body closer.

“That’s not what you said later on that night,” He pointed out with a low growl that had something inside - low and deep - fluttering. “Either of you.”

“I think we hurt his feelings.” You stage-whispered, then yelped as Steve leaned over and closed his mouth over your earlobe. “Oooh…”

Steve’s stubble rubbed against the side of your face, your neck. “No witty comeback to that?”

“N-n-oo.” You managed to stutter and were rewarded with a smile that would have put the sun itself to shame against that fair skin and all-over-golden hair.

How did they do that? You wondered, pulling him down to touch his lips to yours, to taste along the seam of that full, delicious mouth. How could something as simple as a smile and a moment of intimacy shake the foundations of life itself for you? How could you possibly love one person - let alone two - this much?

Warm, drugging kisses were working their way up from your collarbone - James. Your hand tangled in his hair as you and Steve broke apart for air, felt his own squeeze against your hip, felt your body arch in response.

“Is this,” You breathed, barely recognizing your own voice. “The part where we make-up?”

“If by make-up,” Steve’s mouth was ghosting down, over the thin cotton of your t-shirt, even as James’ reached that sweetly sensitive spot just below your jaw. “You mean, ‘ply our girl with orgasms til she forgives us’, then yeah, I think we’ve reached that part of the program.” His mouth, warm and damp even through the material closed over one nipple and you gasped.

James took full advantage and swallowed the rest of the sound.

He kissed you like a man starved, both hands finding their way to your face, tilting your head just so, finding the perfect angle to lick and stroke the warm embers of desire higher as Steve moved lower, lower, trailing kisses and hands down your ribcage, down your belly. 

You might’ve moaned when he pressed that stubble to the inside of your thigh with a teasing nip but if you did, it was lost under James’ lips, eaten whole and greedily.

It was like being devoured, and you found that you didn’t mind one bit.

You were just as starved and hungry for them, after all.

“Lift your hips, doll.” Steve asked and you obliged, allowing him to pull your underwear down your legs even as James’ hands traveled up, under your shirt, to cup one breast then the other.

You were drowning in the decadent sensation of hands on your skin, pulse racing as James licked and nibbled and teased.

And then you felt Steve’s tongue take a long, slow lick between your folds and you swear you saw the face of God Herself as he cupped your hips with both hands to hold you still and closed those lips over your clit just as James’ hands shoved your shirt up past your breasts and began to run teasing circles around one nipple, then the other.

So much sensation.

Too much as Steve continued to alternate long, slow licks with quick catlike ones and the contrast of James’ metal hand with his flesh one. You felt your body tightening, tightening like a coil like a spring…

And then your whole body shuddered as Steve slid two fingers into your wet heat, groaning against the softness of your thigh as he watched them pump in and out of you and you shivered as you glanced down and met those bright blue eyes.

“Cum for us, y/n.”

The words were barely out of his mouth when the first orgasm ripped through you - toes curling, back arching, muscle clenching pleasure cascading like lightning strikes as your eyes fluttered shut and you breathlessly swore, a string of prayers and words that needed no language to be heard.

Steve lowered his head to your core again and oh, god, he wasn’t done yet as he used his mouth and fingers to ride you through the first wave of pleasure, building, building the second wave even as James leaned back to watch the pair of you, that boyish, young grin on his face as you whimpered wordlessly and Steve took you over the edge again.

When you came back from wherever in the universe that orgasm took you, it was to the slightly bitter taste of your own juices as Steve kissed you, coaxing you back to the moment. He pulled you on to your side and you went, body momentarily lax and boneless even as his fingers wound through your hair, changing the angle here, then there while his other hand rested on your hip.

You felt heat from behind you and had a moment to register it before James slid into you from behind, all the way in, and your whole body shuddered. Too much, too much…

“Breathe, y/n.” James whispered in your ear. “Just breathe.You can take it.”

You nodded, but  _ god _ you were so sensitive and each push and pull as he dragged his hard length along your walls threatened to make you explode especially when he tilted your hips to give him access to hit that special angle that sent lightning dancing along your inner walls.

Steve chuckled as you dug your nails into his shoulders, holding on desperately. “Love seeing you come undone like this, doll.” His hand circled over your hip, lower, lower as James began to pick up speed now. It took barely a touch of one calloused finger to your clit combined with a deep thrust from James to push you over the edge for the third time. Your inner walls clamping down on James’ cock with enough force to draw a muttered ‘fuck, oh fuck...fuck…’ from him and then he was slamming into you as you came apart at the seams, chasing his own orgasm as Steve held you steady.

Sweat damp and eyes blind, you had to lay there for a long minute - or five - as James whispered sweet words in your ear, kissing along the back of your neck and shoulders as he slid out of you with a wet sound and rolled off the bed to dispose of the condom you hadn’t been consciously aware of him sliding on. 

Steve’s hand at your jaw as he turned your chin up to meet your gaze, a little worry mixed into that brilliant blue now. 

“You still with us?” He asked.

Somehow, you managed to swallow and nod, realized your nails were still digging into his shoulders. “Shit. Sorry.”

He flexed those same shoulders, more than a little smug. “I like your claws, kitten. Like when you hold on to me like that. You okay?” He asked again.

“Yeah. Yeah...just...shit…” Your breath was still uneven, nerve endings still sparking with pleasure. “Yeah, I’m with you.”

“Good,” He rolled onto his back, pulling you on top of him, laughing as you groaned.

“No, no. I’m done. My brain is practically leaking out of my ears.” You protested, even as you moaned and rocked your hips against his erection through all-too thin boxers as he grabbed your ass and squeezed. “Steve...how are you still clothed?”

“My bad.” Somehow, and you weren’t quite sure how, he managed to shed the boxers without moving you off of him for more than a second. When you rolled your hips again, this time it was along the hard velvet of his cock, your skin so sensitive it was beginning to blur the line between pleasure and pain. Both of you let out small hisses of pleasure as you rolled your hips again, your slick starting to coat the length of him.

“This seems familiar,” He teased as James rejoined you.

James just quirked an eyebrow at you both as you tipped your imaginary Stetson. “Do I want to know what weird kink that’s about?”

“Steve likes being ridden, that’s all.” You grinned at him, noticing the drowsiness stealing over his face. 

“By all means then,” He sprawled out on his back, just far enough away to brush the outside of your thigh with his hand, putting the other beneath his head. “I’ll just enjoy the show.”

You braced your legs on either side of Steve’s hips, lifted yourself up and forward so you could reach down and firmly grasp the length of him. You watched his nostrils flare, pupils blown with arousal under your grip, watched those powerful hands clench, twisting in the sheets as you slid, oh-so-slowly down the length of him. Watched that powerful jaw clench as his eyes slid shut and head kicked back as you claimed him fully, deeply, hotly.

When his hands moved to your hips, you shook your head, pressed them back into the sheets and had the pleasure of watching comprehension dawn on that gorgeous sculpted face.

“No touching.” You told him, your voice husky and trembling.

And then you moved. Slow, teasing strokes up and down, rolling your hips lazily, bracing your hands on his abdomen as you watched tension - the best kind of tension - fill his frame as he held your gaze and tried, tried so hard not to let his hands come up off the sheets. You made him work for it, testing the edges of his restraint until the only noises he was making were that same wordless prayer language made of please and fuck and baby and don't stop, never stop.

You more felt than saw James reach over to clasp one of Steve’s hands, let out a low whine as you felt yourself begin to climb towards another sharp edge of oblivion.

“Won’t…” You panted. “Won’t be able to last much longer…”

“Then…” Steve hissed, a low vulgar noise as you rolled your hips a little faster now, his own bucking up to meet you. “Don’t. Please, y/n. Please.”

You nodded, giving him permission and those hands that you adored were on your hips in a heartbeat, helping lift and slam you back down as the pace turned frantic.

You went over the edge first, could do little more than hold on as Steve used that incredible strength to move you on him, hips kicking up as he swore once, twice, and followed you over into oblivion.

When you came to, you were draped over his chest, James spooning you from behind, already sleeping from the easy cadence of his breath against the shell of your ear.

“I’m sorry, y/n.” Steve said, his fingers stroking over your thigh, the movement comforting not sexual. “I’m so so sorry for what we did.”

You went to reply but the only thing that came out of your mouth was a sleepy yawn.

Steve chuckled and bopped your nose. “Sleep, y/n. We’ll figure it out in the morning.”

You fell asleep with the warm beating of one super soldier heart under your head and another beating at your back.


	28. Waiting on The Curve of The Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's only a matter of time

Two weeks went by without so much as a suspicious parking ticket in the nearby town.

Not that you were complaining - days were spent on training, on Avengers’ business, catching up with Sam, hanging out with Nat. Pranking Clint, and Tony. Asking Bruce silly dumb science questions about your supermetabolism that he answered with the saint-like patience of a kindergarten teacher.

And nights...well, nights were spent with your soldiers.

Sometimes you’d make love until the idea of walking was a faint and distant joke, and god, you loved every minute of relearning their bodies in bright, blasting technicolor that left you deaf and blind. The inside of a church had never seen such reverence, never granted such peace as those quiet hours where the only sounds were breathless desire and jagged need that you soothed and consoled and ran headlong into.

Other times you would just….be together. Make popcorn and toss it to James from across the room to see who could catch the most pieces in their mouth. Doing a rewatch of every. Single. Disney. Movie. Just because Steve loved them so much, and you and James would sing along in terrible imitation voices just to drive him nuts. Or all three of you, curled up on the couch, the bed, a chair while Steve sketched or James knit - “It helps maintain coordination, y/n.” - and you read or just watched them both.

Two weeks of filling the waiting time. Because as much as all three of you were enjoying this, Rumlow was sitting there in the back of your minds, waiting like the sword of Damocles or a nasty fungal infection, just waiting for the moment to reappear.

“Hello,” Nat snapped her fingers in front of your face. “Y/n? Where did you just go? Wait,” She shook her head and stood back. “Lovesick smile, relaxed demeanor. Is there any time you aren’t thinking about Rogers and Barnes?”

“Yep.” You put a little extra pop into the p, like blowing bubblegum. “When I’m kicking your ass in training.”

“Cute.” You fell into step again, side by side. “I’m glad you’re happy, y/n. It’s nauseating for the rest of us, but it looks good on you.”

“Thanks, I think.” You shoulder-checked her, gently. “I think Steve and James are about to go out of their minds though if Rumlow doesn’t make a move soon.”

“Fucker was like whack a mole when he had you.” Nat grimaced. “Now we know he’s just hanging around and we can’t get a bead on the slimy  мудак .”

“He’ll move soon.” You couldn’t say where the certainty came from, but it was there. “Whatever the play is, he’s going to be running out of patience and resources. He can’t stay local and undiscovered forever.”

“He’ll find a way to separate you and the boys again.”

“He can try.” You meant in the larger sense, and Nat the more tactical, so you nodded. “But yeah, it’s the smart tactical move. Find a way to keep the three of us apart. He knows Steve and James are his biggest threats - super soldier strength and speed and just plain ole pissed off fury.”

“I can’t really blame the boys for itchy trigger fingers.” Nat admitted. “I think pretty much everyone on this compound wants to watch him die slowly. Painfully. Graphically.”

“We could sell tickets.” You suggested and were rewarded with a laugh. 

“Carefully or Tony might do exactly that.”

“Seriously though, I just want this over with.” You were the first in the door back in the dormitories, and there was enough chill in the air these days to make you appreciate the heat. “All I want for Christmas…” You started to sing, then drew up short at the gathering of Avengers in the kitchen, all waiting. “What’s up, guys?”

“We're being called to help out with the situation in Turkey.” 

“Best. Christmas. Gift. Ever.” Clint tossed up a chocolate chip, caught it in his mouth, shrugged with one shoulder as everyone stared. “Lara's parents are staying at the farm over the holidays. Her Dad hates me."

"Haven't you been with Lara for like, a decade?"

"Almost two." Clint corrected. "Doesn't make it any easier." He spun to face Tony and Steve.  "When do we go in?”

“Some of us aren’t.” Tony raised his eyebrows at you as you stole one of the stool seats at the counter, clearly expecting an outburst.

You shrugged. “I’m holding down the fort. Running QB from HQ.”

“She’s trying to talk sports,” Sam cooed. “It’s so cute.” He laughed as you threw some of Clint’s chips at him.

“What’s the play, coach?” You asked Steve.

“You’re...you’re really okay with being left out of the action?” Bruce gaped at you.

“No, but taking down Rumlow is a team sport and the best way for me to help the team is to stay right here and be smart by hanging with my girl F.R.I.D.A.Y.” You saw Steve exhale with relief, saw James’ fist unclench. “We talked about this guys. I don’t like it, but you stand a better chance coming back in one piece and with Rumlow dead if you don’t have to split your focus. I get it. Just,” You couldn't resist needling them. "No drugging me this time, okay?"

“It’s likely this will draw Rumlow into action.” Steve was moving into strategist mode, bolstered by your words. “This is exactly the opportunity he'll have been waiting for - for some of the team to be drawn away from the compound. Away from you,” He clarified. “Rumlow knows we won’t risk you in the field on anything less than a full scale emergency, and he definitely doesn't have those resources. Odds are he’ll have men here to take on the base.”

Tony scoffed. “They’re welcome to try. Isn’t that right, F.R.I.?”

“Affirmative,” The A.I. responded. “I have several upgraded defense systems that I am quite...eager...to try out.” Her tone was positively blood thirsty, despite the lovely Irish lilt.

Everyone looked at Tony.

“Don’t look at me like that!”

“Guys,” You slapped the counter. “Focus, please. Fill us in, Steve.”

“We take a third of the team to Turkey. In, out, haul ass back here to crush whatever Rumlow attempts. Me, Clint, and Wilson."

"Yes," Clint hissed. "Best. Christmas. Ever."

“I’ll stay in the command center for the duration.” You offered. “It’ll reduce the need for you to sic some of these babysitters on me.” Nat shot you a look and Tony ruffled your hair. “Plus, it’s the most secure place in the compound, so you know I’ll be fine when he makes his play here.”

Steve nodded. “The mobile team will haul ass back here and we’ll crush whatever play Rumlow’s got set up.”

"Aaand, break!"

Sam groaned. "Make her stop talking sports. Barnes, Rogers, please, I beg of you."

"Hey," James sidled up next to you and pressed a kiss to your forehead. "We're not the ones who made her sit through Thanksgiving football."

The plan, somewhat predictably, gets blown to shit when the next-gen rocket launcher takes out a chunk of the compound wall while Steve is somewhere over the Atlantic.

You're in the command center, as promised, and it's a good thing you are because whatever favors and freebies Rumlow had from his days with Hydra, it's clear he's called them all in for this full-frontal assault on the compound. Within an hour, half the compound is burning, but you're safe, eyes glued to the monitors as you call out information to the rest of the team who are out there dealing with the real mess.

"Ah...shit." You swear as you watch Rumlow and a handful of faces you do happen to recognize make their way past F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s automated turrets. "Fuck me sideways."

"Less adjectives, more details, hun." James' voice is panting over the comms as he continues to take out the Hydra - former Hydra? - goons in the east wing near the garage. 

"We've got unfriendlies from the Index."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Nat swears and you hear someone else scream in pain and the crunch of a joint doing something a joint probably isn't supposed to do. 

"What's the Index?"

"It's a list S.H.I.E.L.D. keeps of powered people who might pose a threat. We've got..." You call up the facial recognition and match the files to be sure. "Fuck. Fuck shit damn. Fuck. Okay. We've got a walking talking EMP generator heading your way, Nat. We've also got a metal-mage," You repeat yourself as Tony wisecracks about Dungeons and Dragons. "A metal-mage, a shapeshifter, and a goddamn kinetic manipulator headed into the main building."

"I've gotta take out that fucking rocket launcher." Tony swears. "What kind of kinetic manipulator?"

Your eyes flash to the screens in front of you and everything goes a little static as you realize what the charts are showing you. "Uh...the kind that can definitely level a building, guys. This is...this is very not good."

"How strong on the index?" Tony's voice is harsh. "Y/n, what their ranking on the index?"

You swallowed, throat dry. "Level seven."

"Get out of there." Tony ordered. "Everyone, converge on the control room. They're going to blast their way in."

Your voice shook. "No. Get clear. The center will absorb most of the blast - I'll be okay." You crossed your fingers, hoped you hadn't just lied. "But you guys have to clear the blast zone."

"Like hell," James snarled, echoed by Nat.

"Stark," You pleaded. "You know this is the right call."

"She's right, Barnes. Even a level seven won't gut the place - structurally, the command center will be okay. Y/n, it's gonna rattle you like hell when they detonate, and you'll want to put something between you and the blast to help absorb the shock wave." Tony's voice was calm, even though you knew inside he had to be freaking out.

"Our EMP friend is down." Nat chimed in. "This kinetic manipulator? Will they be wiped after one blast?"

"Highly likely." You confirmed, tracking Rumlow and his new team's progress through the facility. "I've got about four minutes til they reach the outer door. Comms might get fried."

James' only response was a litany of Russian swear words.

"Watch out for the metal-mage, babe. I'm not sure how vibranium will interact with their abilities. And the shapeshifter can only hold form for ten minutes before their molecules force them back to their original form." You try to pass along as much info as you can, stalking to the weapons case and loading yourself for bear. "I've also sent a ping to Steve's team - they'll get it the moment they come back online."

And then the kinetic manipulator must've detonated because you went ass over teakettle as the shockwave slammed into you with bone-jarring force.

_Don't go unconscious, don't go unconscious_ , you chanted to yourself even as your vision swam and darkness threatened to swallow you whole. Gritting your teeth, you managed to stagger upright. Something was definitely broken in your right leg. And your ribcage.

"Guys?" No response.

The comms were down.

You were on your own.

And Rumlow stepped through the shattered hole in the command center door.


	29. Devil's Due

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumlow's here, and one way or another, things are coming to an end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s the FI-NAL SHOWDOWN! *aggressively kazoos in the background*

Rumlow knocked aside the first of your knives before he even opened his mouth, but the second one caught the Kinetic Manipulator right in the throat. They dropped, gurgling as they drowned in their own blood and you felt nothing but satisfaction as the other two Indexed visitors paused before following Rumlow into the room.

“That was rude,” He stepped around the body as if it was nothing. “But it’s good to see you’re staying in shape, sweetheart. It’ll make this a lot more fun.”

You chose not to waste words, hand moving to your gun and before he could make any more snappy comments, squeezed off two more shots in quick succession.

Rumlow moved, dodging, but you weren’t aiming at him.

You shrugged as he looked between the other two bodies and you. “Indexed doesn’t mean bullet-proof.”

“Want me all to yourself then?”

His tone was half lust-drunk and you shuddered, feeling your leg start to buckle underneath you as you trained the barrel on him as you leaned ever-so slightly against the edge of an upturned console.

Your leg was fucked, at least for the next six and a half minutes according to Banner’s lectures on your healing physiology. Six minutes is a long time in a combat zone.

“You can’t beat me in a fight.” Rumlow circled you, and you knew he was looking for chinks in your armor, in your body language. “How many times have we gone around and around, baby?”

“I only need to beat you once, Rumlow.”

He laughed, held his hands to the side, grandstanding. “I’m waiting.”

You fired, once, twice more, knowing he’d dodge again and you put the next round where he’s  _ going _ to be and the smile on your face isn’t a nice one but it feels good as he swears when the bullet takes him in the shoulder. “You’re not bulletproof either, asshole.”

“Oh, I am going to enjoy this.” The darkness in his voice was a promise.

And then he was moving, moving _ fast _ across the room and you threw yourself to the side to avoid the flurry of blows he launched at you. He might be as strong as Steve and James, but you were fast, faster than any of them, and you made it work to your advantage as you rolled away from a stomp that would have ruptured something internal. Even with the leg slowing you down, you were still faster.

And then there was no time to think because you rolled up to your feet and were fighting for your life.

Hours of training with Nat and Clint, drilling endless repetition into your body; weeks of training with Sam in the gym, building stamina and endurance. All of it condensed into the moment as you blocked, hit, kicked, dodged.

You took a hit to the ribs - right over the fracture that sent you staggering back onto your bad leg -  _ motherfuck that hurt! _ \- and you slipped a bladed grip up under Rumlow’s guard, slashing through the tac vest and driving him back long enough for you to shift your weight and brace for the next onslaught.

Hand to hand in real life isn’t like in the movies - it’s quick, and dirty, and the point is to disable or kill your opponent before he can do the same to you and before you run out of energy. Expending maximum skill and effort to accomplish the objective as quickly and efficiently as possible.

But even super soldier energy runs out at some point though, and the next time you broke away from each other, you were both panting, chests heaving.

Both of you were in rough shape, you realized, taking stock of your own blooming bruises and measuring them against the ones on Rumlow.

Where the hell was the team?

“What are you expecting out of this?” You asked, trying to distract and delay. “What’s your endgame here, Rumlow? You think Stark is going to let you walk off this base alive? You think any of us will?”

Rumlow wiped the fresh blood of a split lip off his face and laughed. “Getting out alive has never been part of the game plan, sweetheart. It’s to take as much as I can from life before the curtain call.” He spat more blood on the floor. “And I sure took  _ you _ , didn’t I?”

Rage exploded through your body, hands literally shaking with it as you tried not to let it show that the dig had hit home, but it was Rumlow so of course he saw it.

“What about you, baby?” His tone was light, grinning like the cheshire cat as you continued to circle each other warily. Neither one of you was breathing quite so hard, bodies beginning to recover already.

You tested your weight in the bum leg and hid a smile. Almost there.

“You think the universe is gonna give you a happily ever after with your two super soldiers?” He was shaking his head, answering his own question. “You think people like us, killers, get that apple-pie, picket fence kinda life?”

“Maybe not like you,” You jibbed and saw his eyes narrow. “But yeah, that’s the goal. I love them. They love me. It’s no Norman Rockwell, but I like it.”

“Rogers…” Rumlow laughed, grabbing a piece of rebar from the wreckage and spinning it experimentally, getting a feel for the weapon in his hand now. “Rogers, I can get. Mr. Stand Up, Dudley Do Right. Half the  _ world _ is in love with that righteous asshole. A little bland for my taste, kinda surprised you went for it, but I can understand it.”

“Oh just try to kill me already,” You snarled. “Monologuing is bad enough before you try to psychoanalyze people.”

“I’m trying to have a conversation here,” He swung the rebar and you moved out of range smoothly. “Like I said, Rogers I get. But  _ Barnes _ ? That fucker is so damaged I’m surprised he can function.” Another swing and you moved  _ in _ this time, slamming your boot against his knee with a satisfying pop before dancing away, then back around.

He dropped, panting, blocked the knee you’d driven towards his face and tossing you to the side with full strength. You hit a pillar with enough force to stun you and collapsed as he pushed back to his feet and popped his knee back into place with a sickening squelch.

“Barnes has got you all fooled.” He said, as if you were a dim student. “You think I’m the monster? You should see the things Hydra made him do. And he did them. Every terrible order they gave him. Do you know how many people he’s killed? How many targets he eliminated without even a question or a pause?”

“Seriously,” You got your hands under you, pushed up to all fours, then to your knees, then to your feet. “Just keep trying to kill me. Please. It’s so much better than listening to you try to pick apart my relationships.”

The roar Rumlow let out as he charged you sounded like victory, even as he slammed you bodily against the pillar and something inside definitely ruptured as his hand tightened around your throat. He stared at you with rage and hatred and longing painted across his face.

You laughed until his grip cut off the rest of your air and then you laughed at him with your eyes, even as your vision started to blur.

“Why?” He demanded, shaking you like a rag doll. “Why them? Why  _ them _ ?” His grip gentled, allowing you to suck in a breath. “ _ Why them _ ?”

“You really want to know why them and not you?” You didn’t have enough air to laugh, so it came out as a huff of air, felt something wet and pulpy inside and winced at the pain. “You want to know?”

“Yes,” He breathed the word, body frozen, tense. Completely fixed on you, your words.

So you gave him the truth with a level stare and a mocking smile full of all the pity and condescension you could manage. “I’m not a  _ fucking toy _ to them. I’m a person. I matter. Just me, even without super strength or healing. Just me.” You managed to inhale a little more air, not that that would help you get out of his still-too-tight grip. But that was okay - you just needed to buy time. “You want to know something else?”

He nodded and you had the absolute joy of seeing Brock Rumlow utterly speechless for once in his miserable fucking life.

You coughed, let the wet sound travel. “Closer,” You said, letting your voice fade, even as you could feel your body working to repair the damage it had sustained. “Closer.”

When he was close, leaned in so close that you could have bit him, you grinned at him and then told him, “You are so. fucking. dead.”

He pulled back, confusion on that bruiser of a face just in time to get hit by the freight train of Steve Goddamn Rogers at a full run, tearing him away from you and driving him into the remains of the command center wall hard enough to shake the bones of the building.

You slid down the pillar and just watched.

“Hey, you with me y/n?” James was there too, already moving to help you stand. “Y/n?”

“I’m here.” You shifted, winced. “I’ll be okay. Go kill that sonovabitch.”

James looked over at Rumlow - arms up in a failed attempt to protect his head as Steve whaled on him, hit after hit. “I think Stevie’s got this one, actually.” His arm came around your waist as you stumbled. “Woah there.”

“Ruptured something. Might need a couple minutes.” You gave James a grateful smile as he propped you against him so you could both watch Steve kick the ever-loving shit out of Rumlow some more. You leaned your head against his shoulder. “Best. Date. Ever.”

James laughed, tucked a loose bit of hair out of your face. “You say the sweetest things when you’re concussed, you know that?”

“Mmhm.” You mumbled. “ ‘s been a long day.”

There was a loud thudding noise as Steve caught Rumlow square across the face and you literally saw the jaw dislocate.

“How long do we let him go on?” You asked as Nat, bloodied and a bit bruised but otherwise fine joined you. “Also, weren’t they halfway across the Atlantic?”

“Cap got antsy before we even hit international waters,” Clint gave you a once over, then Nat. “We were already on our way back when the compound hit. You look like shit,” He added.

“I told you we should have sold tickets.” You told Nat as Sam, Bruce and Tony joined you. “Who’s got snacks?”

“She’s quipping, so she can’t be hurt as bad as she looks.” Sam said and you, the mature adult, stuck your tongue out at him before he focused on Steve and Rumlow. “When do I get to tag in?”

Steve’s massive hands slapped the sides of Rumlow’s head simultaneously and Nat flinched. She’d shown you that move -  _ galaponge _ \- and you knew that Rumlow’s head had to be ringing like church bells as he staggered like a drunk moose.

Those same hands grabbed the sides of Rumlow’s head once more and twisted in opposite directions.

The snap of Rumlow’s neck echoed through the ruins of the command center as his body dropped.

“Well, shit.” Sam crossed his arms over his chest. “Dibs on staking him through the heart or decapitating him. To be sure.” He clarified when Nat raised an eyebrow at him. “Fucker doesn’t like to stay dead.”

Steve turned to look at you and you smiled to let him know you were okay. That you were all okay.

“I vote we incinerate the body.” Tony said as Bruce gestured for James to turn you so he could give you a once over. “Yes?”

“Agreed.” Nat and Clint said at the same time.

It hit you then, as Bruce had you track his finger from left to right and left again and as Sam joined Steve standing over Rumlow’s corpse. 

It was over.

Really over.


	30. A Soft Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumlow is gone, everyone else lives, and there's one more surprise left in store for you and your super soldiers
> 
> Because I promised a happy ending, didn't I?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I just want to say thank you to everyone who read/kudosed/commented through this labor of love the last few weeks - I can't tell you all how much I enjoyed this, in large part thanks to you! While this is the end of this story, I wish you all happy reading here on AO3 
> 
> Thank you all SO so much, and I hope you enjoy this soft conclusion as much as I did writing it!

There isn’t a lot to say in the aftermath of the attack.

Sam did convince Steve to let him remove Rumlow’s head - you’re pretty sure Steve wanted to make sure as much as Sam did that this time it really sticks - before Tony incinerated both parts in the compound’s incinerator.

James held your hand all the way to the medical suite, which is miraculously less-damaged than the rest of the compound as Bruce calls in Helen to give you a full check over. It’s more to assuage the worry written on both your soldiers’ faces - by the time Helen got there, your concussion healed, along with your internal injuries.

Helen does have to dig out some shrapnel that your body healed over, and oooooh boy is that _not fun_. James let you squeeze down on the metal hand for that, and you’re so glad Steve isn’t there to see you almost cry, but when he walks into medical you practically hurl yourself into his arms.

Neither of you mention how his arms tremble around you.

Tony starts to rebuild the compound and the Avengers temporarily relocate back to Stark Tower.

And life moves on.

“No.” Steve shook his head, firm resistance all over that gorgeous face, now covered with a thick lion’s mane of a beard that you still have trouble resisting. “Absolutely not. No way, y/n.”

James is draped across your shared bed, and he’s grinning behind Steve’s back as you dig in your heels and prepare to do battle.

“Yes, Steve. We are staying here for New Years, and you will absolutely attend Tony’s party. I will,” You offered as he opened his mouth to no doubt say something ridiculously sexy in his ‘Captain’ voice. “Even wear a dress and heels.”

He stops, considering.

Steve Rogers is a hell of a feminist, but he also really loves seeing you in - and taking you out of - pretty dresses.

“And I won’t stop you from decking Tony when he says something out of line.”

“I get to kiss you at midnight.”

You tried not to smile, but you failed miserably. “You know you’re adorable when you pout, right?”

And then you were flying back, onto the bed as Steve tossed your ass, laughing as Bucky rolled out of the way. Laughing more, helplessly this time as Steve pounced on you, fingers finding sensitive spots along your sides.

“I surrender!” You shouted, breathless as he tickled you. “I surrender! James, help me!”

“Sorry, babe.” James grinned. “I’m staying out of this one.”

“Stop and I’ll give you your present.” You promised.

“Christmas was last week,” Steve pointed out. “And I thought we already got our present…”

You smiled wickedly, recalling the reaction to your ‘gift’ of black lace garter, hose, and plunging balconette bra. “Well, that was just part one.”

“In that case,” Steve pressed a soft kiss to the sensitive skin below your navel, eyes sparkling at your sharp intake of breath. “I might not survive part two.”

James leaned over and kissed you, thoroughly. So thoroughly you started to melt against your boys…

“Nope.” You pushed James away, then Steve. “Lemme up. I have to give this to you tonight or Nat is going to ruin it.”

That had your soldiers looking at each other and then you with confusion and you laughed again, watched as the sound relaxed both of them even though you were moving out of the bed. “Just,” You made a frame with your fingers, admiring the view for a moment. “Just...wait right there, okay? I just need a minute.”

You raced into the bathroom and shut the door.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y?” You asked. “Can you unlock the drawer?” 

“Of course, y/n.” The A.I. obliged and you drew open the hiding spot for this present.

Your breath hitched in your chest as you looked down at the small, black box.

This was it - the big moment.

You’d been less scared parachuting into combat situations in your early days on the teams.

You pushed a slow, steady breath out, braced your hands against the counter before you looked at yourself in the mirror. “You got this,” You told yourself, and you meant it. “You survived war and the Avengers and losing yourself and Clint’s latest prank war and Tony's attempt at cooking. This...this is a walk in the park.”

Yeah, you only kind-of believed yourself, but since that little box wasn’t going to do the big reveal all on its own, you made yourself lift your chin, settle your shoulders back, and - grabbing the box before you forgot it - reached for the door.

“Y/n?” F.R.I.D.A.Y. asked.

“Yes?”

“I’m detecting an abnormally high heart rate and elevated pulse metrics.”

“I’m nervous.” You admitted. “But it’s going to be okay, F.R.I. I promise, I’m okay.”

There was a pause, as if F.R.I.D.A.Y. was evaluating the veracity of your words.

“I think you’re going to be more than okay, y/n." She said finally. "I think you’re going to be just lovely.”

You had to tip your head then so your hair could hide the waterworks that threatened to spring forward at the maternal tone. “Thanks, F.R.I.”

“My pleasure.” She said as your hand rested on the knob and then turned it, pulling open the door.

“Guys?” You asked as you stepped through the door. The room was completely darkened, lit only by several dozen candles on every available surface. Your hand rose to your mouth in reflex as you mouthed the words, “Oh my god.”

Steve and James were waiting for you right where you left them.

Your mouth dried up as you drank in the glorious sight of them in candlelight, every thought in your head chased out by desire that curled through you, long-limbed and languorous with heady heat.

It should be illegal to look that good.

“We wanted to do something a little more special than usual.” 

You couldn’t speak, and the feelings crashed into you all at once - awe, wonder, appreciation, but most of all love. Love that threatened to crack your chest wide open and drown you. And knowing - with utter certainty - that as much as you loved them, you were loved in the same measure in return.

It was a goddamn gift.

Gift.

The box.

You licked your lips, nerves returning, saw the moment both men realized that you weren’t moving closer.

“Baby,” Steve sat up, scooted to the edge of the mattress. “What’s wrong?”

“Absolutely nothing,” You said, and because it was true, found the strength to pad over as James joined him. “Everything is just...so fucking perfect.” You took a breath to steady yourself as James slid a hand along the back of your leg, pulling you closer with a comforting caress that threatened to tip into a more carnal mood. “Just...let me do this first.”

James nodded, pulled his hand back, even as Steve’s eyes sharpened on you, finally noticing the black box.

“It’s been a rough year.” You started.

“Understatement.” Steve snorted, then held up his hands as you mock-glared at him. “Sorry.”

“I wasn’t...this wasn’t where I saw us ending the year, but honestly, I’m so happy. And I can’t think of a better way to celebrate the turn of seasons with you.” Oh no, you realized as your eyes started to water again. Oh no, you were going to get  _ sappy _ . “I love you both so, so much. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how full my heart is with it.”

“We love you too.” James stood and caught the first tear to spill over. “Y/n, what’s going on?”

You held the box up, clasp facing them as Steve also stood. “I guess I’m going to have to figure out how to make some more room in there though.”

And then you opened the box.

The thin stick sat nestled as if it was precious jewelry with its tiny little symbol displaying in the little window.

Steve understood first and gaped at you. “Is that...Is that…”

You nodded, and aw hell, yep, here came the waterworks after all. “It is.”

“We’re going to…” James took the box, cradled it in his hands reverently as he swallowed thickly. “Are you sure?”

You nodded as Steve swept you into a tight embrace, lifting you off the floor. “Nat saw me come out of Cho’s office. That’s how she found out.” Steve set you down and you reached for James, pulling him in for a hug between the three of you. “I know it’s soon. Sooner than...well, we didn’t really have a timeline for this.”

“We’re going to be a family.” Steve breathed the words as if he couldn’t quite believe them, legs going out from under him and you laughed as he fell back on to the bed.

“We already are a family,” James corrected, grinning widely as he spun you around. “We’re going to be  _ parents _ , Stevie.”

“It looks good on the three of you,” Tony said casually as you leaned back against the bar and sipped your - non-alcoholic, thank you very much, overprotective Steve - champagne and watched Clint continue to impart parenting advice on two over-eager super soldiers. Steve was listening with the kind of focus you’d only seen before in mission prep, and James - you blinked as he pulled out a notepad from his pants pocket.

It was New Years Eve, and despite the grumbles and grouching and outright bribery, you were all here in Stark Tower to ring in the next three hundred and sixty five days in true Stark fashion.

“The impending parenthood,” Tony continued. “Here’s looking at you, kid.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” You agreed. “I’m going to have a helluva time keeping those two from trying to keep him or her in a bubble.”

Tony laughed. “Yeah, well. They’ll learn. It’s what kids do to you.”

“Tony?” You asked.

“Yeah, kiddo?”

“Stop calling me that.” You scrunched up your nose. “I’m too old to be your daughter.”

“I think what you meant is,  _ I’m _ too  _ young _ to be your father.”

You snorted, and then softened as your eyes drifted back to your lovers. “Thank you, Tony.”

“For what, y/n?”

You turned to face him now, saw he genuinely had no idea what you were thanking him for. You set the champagne down and stepped closer, pressing your hand against his cheek in a rare display of affection.

“For keeping them alive.” You watched his face stutter - a literal moment of 'does not compute' - and laughed as your hand fell away. “What? You think I couldn’t figure that one out? You kept them going when you all thought I was dead - you, Tony Stark. You gave them this team and a goal and you kept them alive long enough to bring me  _ home _ .” You leaned in, had to stand on the edge of your toes even in these ridiculous heels, and pressed a grateful kiss to his cheek. “So thank you, Tony, for keeping my family alive.”

“Hey,” James complained, arms coming around you as he pulled you back against his chest. “Quit making time with our girl, Stark.”

Tony blinked rapidly and you twisted in James’ arms to buy him a moment as you kissed James Buchannon Barnes as if you were staking a claim (which you were), and flipped the bird at Clint when he wolf-whistled.

“What was that for?” James asked, nuzzling you with his nose. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Pregnancy hormones?” You offered.

“Oh really?” He raised an eyebrow at that and you felt that vibranium hand snake down towards your ass, which really, did look great in this dress. “That’s a thing, huh?”

“Oh yeah,” You assured him as Steve joined you.

“Did you tell him?” Steve asked and Tony raised an eyebrow at you.

“It’s  _ ask _ , baby.” You grinned and teased. “And no, not yet.”

“What?” Tony asked. “What is she supposed to ask-slash-tell me?”

You raised an eyebrow at Steve, nodded that he could take this one.

“We’d like for you to be the kids’ godfather.” 

You groaned and James laughed as he buried his face in your neck. “Ask, baby.  _ Ask _ .”

Tony had gone stock still. “You…”

“We’d love it if you would agree to be the godfather,” You offered. “If not, Wilson is next on the list…”

“Birdbrain?” Tony snorted. “Oh hell no. I got this. Pepper!” He shouted, turning. “Pepper, guess what! Someone thinks I'm responsible...”

“Are you sure about that?” Steve asked, turning to face you fully now, and your hands climbed to the lapels of his jacket. “It’s not too late to change your mind…”

From the dance floor the DJ started to count down.

_ Ten...Nine...Eight… _

“I’m sure.” You said, and you knew your face was glowing because there was a little stunned mixed in the blue of Steve’s eyes as you wound your fingers up towards the collar of his shirt.

_ Seven...Six… _

“You sure this is what you want?” Steve asked, and you knew he was thinking of the last time you’d been pregnant. “I don’t want you to rush into this because-”

_ Five...Four… _

“-you think it’s what we want.”

“Steve?” You said quietly.

“Yes?”

_ Three… _

“Shut up and kiss me already.”

_ Two…One... _

Fireworks out over the skyline of the city, fireworks exploding as your mouths met and fused. As you broke away, you pressed a second small kiss to the corner of his lip.

“Happy New Year, babe.”


End file.
